Winter Lasts Forever
by FemaleSpock
Summary: As the seasons change, so do people. Artegor tried to look for the patterns but he found himself caught up in the details; he could never anticipate what Aarch was going to do next. Past-fic, Aarch/Artegor.
1. Chapter 1: Spring

Winter lasts forever

Chapter 1: Spring

**Notes: The title comes from the Hal Borland quote 'No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.'**

**I do not own Galactik football and I make no money from this fanfiction. **

Artegor stared up at the ceiling, squinting at what he thought might be an insect of some sort. He wasn't entirely sure that the dark blotch was an insect; in fact he wasn't sure the blotch was there at all, he'd been awake and staring at the ceiling for countless hours so perhaps he was starting to imagine something, anything, just to relieve the tedium of insomnia. He could have switched on the lights to find out but he didn't want to wake his roommate, Aarch. Aarch's deep sleep breathing was the only sound in the room and Artegor didn't think he would appreciate being woken up.

Artegor had only been living there, in the Akillian training facility, for two weeks and 3 days but he hadn't had a simple night's sleep since he had been there. Some nights had been worse than others but all had been bad. He'd come across trouble sleeping before, when he'd lived with his parents, but it had never been this bad for this long.

He attempted to reassure himself by reminding himself that he would eventually get to sleep and that morning would eventually come for him. Despite these thoughts he still didn't feel any better, his whole body felt itchy and uncomfortable, more than anything he wanted to get up, to go and play. But he couldn't. Lying, still, there was the cruellest torture. He always felt like this during long dreary nights when everyone else was enjoying their dreams and he was alone in the tedium of being trapped in his bed with nothing to do.

Artegor supposed that he would eventually get used to his surroundings and that soon he would adjust and so would his sleeping patterns. He just hoped. Joining the Akillian team had always been his ambition, his dream, but now he was here, the dream had tarnished. Not the football side of it. Playing football had always felt like freedom for him. But it wasn't enough, not yet.

His team-mates left a lot to be desired as well. None of them seemed to take the game seriously enough, there was too much goofing around and horsing about. Most of them had known each other previously before joining the team; Aarch, Norata, Adium and Ciaran. Artegor hadn't known anyone.

Of all the people there on the team, it seemed that Aarch cared about football almost as much as he did. They hadn't spoken much though, despite being room-mates, when they had it had been about football. Artegor usually automatically hated people like Aarch: happy, popular, extroverted and uncomplicated just for being all he was not. Despite this he felt, something, a grudging respect, perhaps, for Aarch. It was instinctive, Artegor recognised talent when he saw it, and Aarch had an abundance of talent. He didn't have the Breath though yet, none of them did. Artegor was itching to get it, to be able to push further, to break more boundaries, to be free from physical restrictions. Flux was necessary if you wanted to be the best.

Artegor rolled over and fell asleep thinking about his future of football triumph.

The next morning soon came, the fingers of the pale light of spring reaching in to gently wake them before practice. Artegor was up before Aarch but only by a few minutes. They both got ready silently, neither one was really a morning person and headed down for practice. Despite neither of the two having the disposition to rise early, they were always both the earliest ones there. They usually got at least 5 minutes practice before the others arrived. Sometimes up to 10 minutes more than Adium and Gabby who were always at least a little late. It was that sort of flimsy lack of commitment that made Artegor hold the rest of his team-mates in disdain.

The practice was a few hours long but it seemed to fly by. Artegor always had regrets when practice ended, there was always something he could have improved on, there was always something he wished he could have done. His team-mates were so complacent; they always came out of practice with such smug expressions on their faces, so self-satisfied. None of them had the Breath, and so no-one had a reason to feel relaxed, without Flux the other teams would destroy them. They didn't have much time either, they had another 2 weeks or so of training and then that was it; they would be thrown into their first real Galactik football match. They didn't even know who they'd be facing yet.

Artegor sighed and headed down to the Lunch Hall. The rest of his team-mates were already there, they had all run off, they seemed more enthusiastic about Lunch than they did about football sometimes. The Lunch Hall was as shiny and new as the rest of the Academy, it had that too clean feel to it, Artegor had lived in an old but large home; he was used to creaking floors and dust. They all sat on one, long, silver table. By now they all had regular seats, they could sit anywhere they liked, but they always instinctually returned to the same places. Naturally Artegor was at the far end of the table. Aarch sat in the middle; he was the hub for all the talking around the table. All the food they got was regulated, balanced so that they got what they needed from it, it warranted complaining from almost all the team members but Artegor thought it made perfect sense. Food was just a fuel, it was just necessary, it wasn't something to be enjoyed or fussed over.

After Lunch they had to spend time in their rooms to let the food go down. Artegor returned to his room and watched a Sport's commentary programme. Aarch was elsewhere, he usually was at this time. After the time was up, Artegor headed back down to the practice pitch to begin another session. When he finished, he again felt that sense of odd mix of satisfaction and dissatisfaction. They all them went to eat their evening meal. The whole thing was much a repeat of lunch only the antics were slightly less because everyone was tired from a day of training. Artegor preferred it that way; the less noise the better.

Artegor was actually a night person, he always more awake at night- when he didn't have a room-mate this wasn't so much of a problem for him, he could get up and do something, but without that freedom, the night had become a not so pleasant time for Artegor.

That night was as dream-less as the last. Artegor wondered how long it would continue for. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to take it.

The next day passed in a similar fashion to the last and all the other days. The only difference was that they had done half and hour of laps outside because the weather had been deemed 'good enough' to do some training outside.

The next night was pretty much the same as the last few, he might have got one more hour of sleep but he didn't dream, he still didn't dream.

The next day had been pretty much the same until the free time, after the last practice and before bed. It wasn't really a big difference, not objectively, it was just words.

"Who is your all-time favourite footballer?" Aarch asked, casually, breaking what now seemed to have been a heavy air of silence that had filled their shared room.

Artegor had been surprised; he had to pause before answering, despite knowing the answer to the question by heart. "Gilha, of the Shadows," he answered, quietly, finding it hard to find his voice.

"He's good," Aarch agreed, smiling widely, "but I would have to say that Andrew from the Lightenings is better, less fouls."

There was another heavy pause. Artegor wondered what he could say in return to that.

"You know, we've been room-mates for a couple of weeks now but I still feel like I don't really know you, tell me about yourself," Aarch said, smiling, sheepishly this time.

Again Artegor was struck dumb for a while, trying desperately to find anything worth saying about himself. He didn't usually feel this nervous talking to someone.

"I uh, well, what do you want to know?" He knew as he said it that it was a cop-out, but he honestly couldn't think of a single thing about himself that meant anything.

"Where did you go to school? What are your interests? Do you have any siblings? Just anything really," Aarch said, giving him that encouraging look that Artegor knew meant that Aarch had mistaken him for being _shy, _it happened fairly often to him, it was one of the perils of being an introvert.

"I was home-schooled, I had a tutor. And I'm an only child," he said, conveniently ignoring the question about interests- he didn't want to admit that he was only really interested in football. He paused again and then added, "how about you?"

"Oh, you had a tutor, that's interesting. I went to Snowhome Secondary school; I doubt you would have heard of it, it was pretty rubbish. And as for siblings, I only have Norata, who you already know."

Artegor nodded and Aarch continued to talk. The conversation between the two of them continued for a while before silence descended, again, upon them. Artegor didn't know why Aarch had taken such an interest, no-one else had, he supposed he was being polite.

There was no way that Artegor could have known that Aarch had decided that somehow he was going to get Artegor to open up. Most people trusted Aarch almost immediately, it was instinctive, but not Artegor it seemed. There was something about that reserved-ness that Artegor possessed that was fascinating to Aarch. Aarch had set his mind to it and despite appearing easy-going and relaxed, when Aarch set his mind to something he saw it through. He was going to get to know Artegor even if it killed him.

Somehow, Artegor found himself falling asleep a little easier that previous nights, he could have sworn he had experiences a glimmer of a dream although he couldn't remember.

Aarch didn't give up either. Everyday that week he talked to Artegor and everyday Artegor found that it got a little bit easier to talk to him. The more he talked to Aarch the more he came to respect him; he was just a dedicated as Artegor and just as single-minded. But he could do other things as well, he could charm anyone just by smiling at them, it seemed effortless for him and Artegor couldn't help but be amazed by this power he had over people.

The concerns of the match that was coming up was central to his thoughts, they had been informed that they would be playing against the Cyclops. Artegor felt cautiously pleased with this result- not the easiest team but not the hardest; he wanted to win the first match after all. Things generally seemed to end how they started.

The fact that none of them had the Breath, himself included, was deeply troubling to him. They needed the Breath soon or they would never win anything. The Coach kept giving them lectures on how to get the Breath- apparently it came with teamwork and good sportsmanship.

It all sounded like rubbish to Artegor. He doubted if they would ever get the Breath if this was the advice they got.

It turned out that he didn't have to worry. Aarch got the Breath a couple of days before the match. Artegor mostly felt jealous, he had wanted to be the one to get flux first, he worked just as hard as Aarch- was just as talented. Objectively he could see that Aarch developing the Breath was a good thing, it was better for the team strategically and it meant that the Breath wasn't unobtainable after all. He, more secretly, felt pride that his friend had done well. Artegor didn't pay much attention to that feeling, but it was there. He didn't even notice that he considered Aarch his friend- not a position occupied by anyone previously.

Artegor got very little sleep in those nights before the match; he went over plays in his head, over and over. He imagined millions of scenarios, all of them bad and tried to think- what would he do? How would he escape from the enemy?

He often recalled their training sessions, he kept seeing Aarch and his new-found Flux flying, spinning, scoring. He wanted that Flux so badly; he wanted that triumph in Aarch's eyes so badly. He felt almost sick at the idea of not getting what he wanted soon. The stillness was driving him crazy. He couldn't stand the silence.

Morning eventually came and so did the match. The atmosphere was different that day, there was excitement and there was sheer terror in the air. The final preparations were made and, as a rather last minute decision on the part of the Coach, Aarch was made the Captain of the team. Artegor wasn't shocked; Aarch was the natural choice as a leader and now he had the advantage of the Breath and besides.

The Coach gave some typical speech about team-work and doing your best. He didn't expect them to win, no team from Akillian ever won, but at least they were good losers. The national ethos frustrated Artegor no end. He wished, and not for the first time, that he had been born a Shadow or a Ryker- a winner. But he tossed the thought aside, he would _do his best_ and try to win with the team he had.

When looking back on the match, Artegor never would be able to remember the moments between leaving the dressing room and entering the pitch. He had entered a state of complete numbness, the eerie calm before the storm. He had got into position; he was a striker, naturally, with Aarch being the other. The Cyclops had then appeared on the pitch. It was a home game, giving them a slight tactical advantage. Of course, the Cyclops had several years of experience overwhelming any advantage the pitch could have.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then the ball was released onto the pitch like a wild beast to be tamed.

The match got off to a bad start; the Cyclopes took possession of the ball immediately and started an attack towards goal. Defence managed to be at least semi-competent and stole the ball to pass to midfield…where they lost the ball to a Cyclops player again.

It was frustrating to Artegor to watch the rest of the team screw up and not be able to do anything about it. As a striker he hadn't had a chance to do anything yet and it irked him. He wished he could play for the whole team so that he didn't have to watch their sloppy mistakes.

Eventually the mistakes took their toll and the Cyclopes scored the first goal of the game just before half time.

The Coach gave another typical 'do your best, that's all that matters' type of speech. Artegor tuned it out, he was irate, if only they had passed the ball to him, then something could have happened. It wasn't about doing your best; it was about winning, it was no surprise that Akillian was so weak if this was the motivation they got. He and Aarch were the best players and neither of them had been even close to touching the ball. Artegor vowed that he would get his turn to score in the next half; he needed to win this match.

Artegor glanced at Aarch as he continued to ignore the Coach's rambling. Had Artegor not been looking carefully enough, he might have thought that Aarch was listening intently, that he whole-heartedly believed in everything that was being said. But Artegor could see through that, for all that Aarch had the shiny, good boy exterior, Artegor sensed that underneath it they were the same. He saw fire in Aarch's eyes; he saw a desire to win that matched his own.

So they got back on the pitch. Artegor felt confident that they could still win it; the Cyclopes only had a lead of one goal. The ball was released again and Norata briefly took possession of it before having it pinched from under his feet by three marching Cyclopes in typical formation. Eventually, the ball was taken back by defence and it was passed to Artegor. Knowing he didn't have a clear shot, he passed to Aarch who shot at goal, using the Breath.

Artegor held his breath as the ball went flying towards goal, the goalkeeper ran desperately on his stubby legs but to no avail. Aarch had scored!. He was ecstatic that they had scored, he would have preferred to do it himself, but he wasn't feeling that picky at that moment.

"Great goal," he said, when Aarch walked back over to position, next to him. Aarch just smiled in response. They would still have to concentrate if they wanted to score again, the Cyclopes could still win this.

The rest of the match didn't go well for them though. Aarch had got the ball again but he was tackled by the Cyclops defence team, they'd pretty much ploughed into him and he'd fallen. Artegor had stopped almost dead waiting to see what would happen to him, he willed Aarch to get up and to be fine. He stayed down.

Aarch was clutching his ankle, grimacing, trying not to make a sound.

"I don't think I can go on," he said, weakly.

Aarch was carried off the pitch of a stretcher and they got a free kick. He got a free kick.

He placed the ball on the ground, trying to focus all of his energy on this one moment, his mouth a grim line from concentration. He stepped back slowly and took a breath before running at the ball and kicking it with all his strength.

The time it took for the ball to fly through the air seemed like a lifetime to Artegor. A lifetime that came to a swift end when the Cyclops goalkeeper dived and caught the ball stopping it from entering the net.

Artegor breathed out, bitterly disappointed. It had been a good shot, if only he had done that little bit better, then it might have gone in. If only he had the Breath.

From there the match went steadily worse, their opponents managed to score another goal in the last 3 minutes and then time was up. They lost.

Artegor walked off that pitch with a heavy burden on his shoulders, he felt responsible for their loss today. It felt awful to have lost their very first match. It did not bode well for the rest of their career.

He slunk dejectedly back to his room to find Aarch already there, watching the holo-tv with a disappointed, yet thoughtful expression on his face.

"How bad is your ankle?" Artegor asked, awkwardly, not wanting to talk about their loss. Besides, he was also genuinely concerned for Aarch, especially as he was one of the Team's best players.

"It's a mild sprain, it should be healed in time for the next match as long as I go easy in practice," Aarch replied, answering Artegor's unspoken question.

"That's good." Artegor gave a serious nod.

"I can't believe we lost," Aarch said, bravely broaching the topic. "I know it was our first match but I really thought we could win."

Artegor nodded again. He paused before asking Aarch a question. Normally he didn't like to ask questions, his tutor had often berated him for doing such, taking it as a sign that he wasn't listening.

"What does the Breath feel like?" he finally managed to say, his curiosity overwhelming any doubts he'd had about asking, it was important to him to know.

Aarch thought for a moment, closing his eyes in an attempt to recall the feeling. "It feels amazing, it's like pure energy running through every part of your body, you feel so…alive…I'm sorry, it's hard to explain, you'll know yourself soon."

"I hope so," Artegor replied in neutral tones, trying not to betray just how desperately he wanted the Breath. He could barely contain the feeling of longing within him, it haunted every waking minute, it just seemed to come so easily to Aarch.

The conversation ended there but it didn't feel awkward, it was a natural silence. Aarch continued watching holo-tv and Artegor was reading through the biography of the ex-manager of the Shadows, hoping to pick up some more tips (he knew there was no point sulking over their loss, they had to look to the future.)

The dreaded time came faster than Artegor had hoped for, the time for the lights to be switched off. Artegor lay in bed as ever, staring at ceiling as was his habit and wondering whether it would always be like this. Bodily, he was exhausted, but as ever, his mind was whirring, analysing, thinking about everything, He just didn't know how to shut off his thoughts.

For some reason tonight, things were worse than usual. The darkness, the stillness was suffocating him. Sudden dread washed over him in waves and he felt the inescapable urge to run, to flee. He was sweating, it seemed to hot in the seemingly shrinking room. He didn't know what had come over him but he knew he couldn't stay here.

Slowly, he moved his leg, softly pushing aside his covers, pausing every now and again to make sure Aarch wouldn't hear him. He put his bare feet onto the carpeted floor and got up cautiously, making as little noise as possible. He crept through the room as if his life depended on it, stopping and listening to make sure that Aarch had not woken. He then reached the door that lead out to the balcony attached to their room (Artegor had never actually been onto it yet, but he knew that it existed.)

The door made a minimal amount of noise when opened; it didn't creak like one of the doors in his parent's house would have. He stepped onto the balcony, lightly shutting the door behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief, he had made it.

The balcony was fairly small and it was made of shiny, silver metal. It looked brand new. According to novels, balconies were supposed to be the scenes of romance, but Artegor would defy anyone to find the romance in this monstrosity- it was too hard, too mechanical.

His feet were cold on the metal floor and the spring night air was cool enough to send a shiver up his spine. He didn't mind the cold though, it was better than the oppressive heat of the room, it was liberating.

Artegor admired the view, knowing there was really nothing else he could do up here, at least he wasn't staring up at the ceiling. There were no stars in the sky but there were plenty of clouds, they were scattered everywhere like players on a pitch, Artegor could almost see a formation if he squinted slightly. From his vantage point he could see their outdoor training field, which despite the shadows cast on it, looked pretty inviting, he wished he could be there now. He could also see houses, lots of boxy houses, in neat rows- faceless, all the same- there had recently been a lot of development in the area. He couldn't see he old home, it was miles away, surrounded by untouched land.

Closer to the Academy were cherry blossom trees, their branches blowing sinisterly in the wind, the petals scattering and falling onto the ground, coating it almost like snow. There was no one around, the streets were completely abandoned, the roads were still, it was like the rest of the world had died and he was the only one left to survey what was left.

Artegor was shocked out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around immediately, heart pounding like a drum. He was faced with the sight of Aarch, standing behind him, with an expression on his face that Artegor thought might be…concern.

"What are you doing out here?" Aarch's voice was a little tired, but it was gentle, there was no accusation in his voice.

"I-" he started and faltered, he shivered again, all feeling concentrated on the spot where Aarch's hand was touching his shoulder. "I couldn't sleep."

It was a pathetic explanation, he knew that, he winced on hearing his voice crack, hoping that Aarch wouldn't notice how much his sleeplessness was weighing on him. He didn't need to know about it.

"Are you okay?" Aarch asked, insistently, making direct eye contact, shocking Artegor.

He was so used to looking away, but he found himself held transfixed. He couldn't speak, he felt shaken to the core, he didn't even really know why.

"Do you have this problem often, not being able to sleep?" Aarch pursued him, calmly, kindly.

"Yes," he finally admitted, his voice dried up to a croak. He looked away as fast as he could, fixing his eye on a particular cloud to avoid Aarch's gaze. He couldn't explain why, but Aarch got to him in a way that had never happened to him before. It terrified him; he didn't want anyone to have that power over him.

"Is there something else wrong? Is there something specific that's keeping you awake?"

"No, I just…there's nothing," he said, noticing that Aarch's hand was now moved from his shoulder to his upper arm. He wasn't used to being touched, his parents weren't the sort to give him hugs, so the sensation was odd, unfamiliar to him. Had it been anyone else, he would have slapped the hand away but as it was he let is rest there- Aarch was just trying to help.

"It might just be because you're in an unfamiliar environment and you haven't adjusted yet, Norata used to have trouble sleeping in hotels," Aarch said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I think you'll be fine, but if not then perhaps you could get some sleeping pills."

_Is that your professional opinion?_ Artegor thought, sarcastically.

Still, he was glad that Aarch had come out here, that he had cared enough to try and work out what was wrong. "Thanks."

"No problem, shall we go inside? It's freezing out here," Aarch said, leading the way, back into the room.

Artegor followed and crawled back into bed, feeling considerably better than he had done. He fell asleep after ten minutes and slept peacefully until morning came- too early for once.

He went to train with renewed vigour, he wasn't going to be defeated, he knew he could get the Breath if he pushed himself as hard as he could. He ran a little faster, played harder; it was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for you.

The day passed quickly and so did the next night. It was all falling into place.

Their next match was against the Wambas, so they were all trying to prepare. Although the Wambas team had gone downhill ever since their star players Zoran and Wotan retired, they were still a team to be reckoned it. It wouldn't easy for the Akillian team to pull themselves out of the precedent set by their first match.

The next week went quickly, training was getting fulfilling. So far a couple of other team-mates had managed to gain the Breath. Artegor was envious but not to the point where it was taking over his entire thought process.

"It'll come," he reassured himself, he was working hard, the Breath had to come. He was talented, he knew that much, there was no reason to think that it wouldn't come to him in time. Aarch had reassured him in the same manner- he hadn't asked for reassurance or voiced any of his doubts, but it seemed Aarch was getting better at reading him- a fact that he found simultaneously disturbing and thoughtful on Aarch's part. No-one had ever really cared how he felt before.

The time soon flew until it was time for their match against the Wambas, despite their defeat last time, Artegor felt a buzz of excitement on the shuttle going to the Wambas planet (it was an away match.). Looking around he thought the team felt it too; they still messed around too much for Artegor's liking but they were starting to take things more seriously. In Artegor's measured opinion, the most crucial element for a team to have was discipline.

They arrived and went to their rooms on Wambas that had been provided for them, the match was the next day so they would have time to adjust from the travelling. It was difficult for all of them to sleep that night, Artegor included, but it was just the normal sort of sleeplessness that happened before any event of import.

The next morning they ate with the Wambas team (the food was dreadful, it made the food they got on Akillian look half-decent) and then they went to the locker room to receive the typical rousing speech from the Coach.

Then they were ready to play. Artegor stepped out on the pitch and got into position. He was determined not to let the Wambas beat them. This time they would not lose.

The ball was released and so the match begun…

**That's it for this chapter; I've been writing this for a while now, little by little thanks to the menace of exams…It might take a little while for the next chapter to be up just because these chapters are longer than my usual chapters. Oh, and I usually work with the idea that Artegor and Aarch knew each other before they joined the Akillian team, but in this story I decided to try it with them never having met before, just because I like trying out new stuff. The fic's going to cover right through past the point where Aarch quit the Shadows, so I anticipate it being longish. So anyway, please, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Summer

Winter Lasts Forever: Chapter 2: Summer 

**Disclaimer: I do not own Galactik football and I make no money from this fanfiction.**

The Wambas gained first control of the ball, clambering, through the air in an animalistic fashion, passing so easily. Luckily it seemed that defence were awake and on task, tackling the Wamba's striker easily, Adium making use of her new found flux. The ball headed down their way but was taken again by the Wambas. This pattern continued for a while before Adium attempted to tackle but failed, giving the Wambas a clear shot at goal.

It went in, Liadan, their goalie, hadn't stood a chance. He felt disappointed as it went in, his spirit deflated a little. This was going to be harder than he thought. He tried to shake it off; he needed to focus on trying to score and not worry about what was going on down in defence.

It was a few minutes to half time and Artegor had gained possession of the ball. He wanted to make the shot himself, to prove himself to the Galaxy, but he didn't have a clear shot and Aarch was unmarked…A moment's deliberation and he passed to Aarch, praying that Aarch would be able to do something with the opportunity that Artegor had given him. And he didn't disappoint, he flew into the air, and with beautiful precision shot at the upper left hand corner of the goal. There was nothing that their goalkeeper could do in response. It was a gorgeous goal; Artegor's esteem for Aarch went up a few notches after that. He knew he had made the right decision; he'd get his chance to score later.

Half time came and went in a flash and they were back out on the pitch, it was a draw so far, the game could just as easily be won as it could be lost. Something went wrong and within the first few minutes of the last half that Wambas scored a goal.

They desperately tried to score a goal of their own but to no avail- Aarch, Artegor and Norata all took several shots at goal but were easily blocked each time. It seemed that they couldn't win. A few minutes before the end of the match, Artegor got hold of the ball, having a pretty decent shot at goal. He took a breath and felt the strength inside himself; he shot up into the air, feeling an electrifying feeling going through every nerve cell- the Breath! He kicked the ball as hard as he could and watched it go in as he came back down to earth.

Goal!

He punched his fist in the air, celebrating his first goal and his first use of the Breath. 'Finally' he thought, feeling like he had made it. The Breath had felt even better than he had thought it might, it was so powerful, he felt super-human. He felt free.

With the time remaining there was not enough time for either team to score another goal. It was a draw. Not a bad result for the Akillians, it meant they were getting better and better, they might win next time if things continued this way.

Overall it had been a good match, if not a great one.

Aarch congratulated him on the goal on the way back and Artegor could tell he was impressed. Good. He was just as good as Aarch and he would continue to prove that on the field. He felt so liberated; he'd managed to beat gravity, there was nothing that could stand in his way now.

They were pretty exhausted by the time they got back to Akillian, so he and Aarch didn't even bother to talk, they just went straight to sleep. Artegor had good dreams, dreams of victory, of being in the greatest striker pair in the galaxy- him and Aarch, punching the air in victory, becoming unstoppable.

He woke up, happy, he'd had dreams like that before but this time it was better because it was all within his grasp. He was about to get up, when something struck him, he'd dreamed of being a striker team, him and Aarch. Before he'd always pictured himself as a solitary striker, the best, on his own. That had made sense, there could only be one greatest player, another striker would overshadow him, he shouldn't want to be sharing the top spot with anyone,. And yet he did. It was scary how fast Aarch had got into his head, Artegor had never been a 'people person' but now whenever he imagined a future it had Aarch in it. It was peculiar to say the least.

Artegor brushed the thoughts aside, knowing he could think about it later, he had training to do- greatness didn't come by lazing around in bed all day.

During training he watched Aarch carefully, taking in his every move, learning. The whole thing was ridiculous, Artegor knew just as much if not more about football, he didn't need to watch Aarch. And yet he did. He could scarcely tear his eyes away from him.

It was announced that they had two weeks before their next match: against the Pirates. Artegor rejoiced at that was the team they would be facing, they had no flux, they could be easily beaten. So far they had been extremely lucky in the teams they had faced off against; they hadn't had to face the best teams like the Shadows, the Rykers or the Lightenings. Also, they had extra time to train- the match was in two weeks instead of one week because of some trouble with Technoid that the Pirates were currently embroiled in.

Artegor had always scoffed at the Pirates, what was the point of playing if you didn't have flux? They never won or even managed to make it to the semi-finals, Artegor didn't see why they didn't just pack it in. They should stick to their illegal activities against Technoid; that was what they did best.

Over half the team now had Flux; it was only left for Gabby, Ciaran and Norata to get it. In Artegor's opinion, if the others stopped messing around then they would get it. Gabby and Ciaran were joker-types, whereas Norata was too distracted by his wife, and impending child. Artegor wasn't sure whether they had married because of the pregnancy or whether they had just decided they wanted to marry and have kids young but either way he didn't understand why anyone would limit themselves that young. There was no way Norata could truly commit to being a footballer whilst being a husband and father.

He didn't plan to marry. He wanted to be free to do what he liked without being restricted by a wife who would nag him about travelling the galaxy to play football and try to keep him housebound; like a pet. His mother had always complained when his father had come home late (although it was also his fathers fault for having so many affairs). Besides, Artegor wasn't interested in girls anyway, football was so much more important; nothing else could even come close to comparing.

He slept well that night but he woke up feeling confused. He knew he had dreamed, he could sense it, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn't remember what he had dreamed about. It bothered him more than it should have. He was starting to dwell on things for no reason whatsoever, it was a bad habit; he needed to kick it before it spiralled out of control.

The next day at lunch he noticed Adium looking at Aarch. It wasn't just a normal sort of look, she was really looking hard. He noticed that she was edging her seat closer to him, slowly, so that no-one else would notice. No-one else did. She was practically sitting on Aarch's lap by the time she was through, but it still didn't seem to bother Aarch, he ate his lunch like nothing was happening.

It bothered Artegor. He felt a tight sensation in his chest, like he was being constricted. He felt angry at Adium; he wanted to slap that stupid flirtatious look off her face with force that scared him. Usually he would have been merely irritated by such behaviour but this felt personal. Artegor was used to having explanations; it shook him that he had none for his own thoughts and feelings.

He was back to staring at the ceiling that night. He was trying to take everything apart, to deconstruct everything but when he tried to put the pieces back together it all fell apart. He kept thinking of Aarch and wondering why he couldn't whitewash his image from his mind.

The heat wasn't helping either, it was getting to be summer and already Artegor wished for autumn. There was no way Artegor could have know that it would be the last summer Akillian would ever have.

He woke up the next morning (he had eventually found sleep), sweaty, breathless, his heart pounding faster than he ever thought it could. He'd managed to find his answer in dreams but it just prompted all more unpleasant questions. Oh what he would give to ignorant again.

In his dream he had been sitting down, in the lunch hall, like he had earlier that day. He'd been alone though and he had to finish a plate of food that seemed to refill itself every time it seemed like he had finished. He was getting more and more frustrating but still he couldn't leave. Then Aarch walked in, looking earnest, the light shining around him like a saint.

"Come with me, I'll save you," Aarch said, stretching out his hand to Artegor.

Artegor took it and found himself in an entirely different landscape, a forest of some sort. The trees were unnaturally tall and the light was dim.

"Where are we going?" he asked, following Aarch through the trees. They ended up in a small tent of some sort which was convenient as it started to rain.

They sat there for a minute before Artegor had asked, "What are we doing here?"

"This," Aarch had said simply before leaning and kissing Artegor.

That was when Artegor had woken up.

It was early, an hour too early to get up for training, Aarch was still fast asleep, dreaming peacefully. Artegor looked at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply and easily in contrast to the constriction that Artegor felt within himself, his whole body was tense.

He didn't understand where the thoughts had come from; the dream had felt so real to him, closing his eyes he could easily find himself back there. He told himself that dreams didn't have to mean anything, it didn't mean anything.

He knew that wasn't true. Looking at Aarch now he could feel his heart beating faster, feel heat rising through his body like a wave. It explained his behaviour before; it explained it all too well.

A feeling like horror descended over him. What was he going to do? He couldn't tell Aarch, he couldn't risk losing his only friend, and he certainly couldn't tell anyone else. He dreaded getting up and going through the day, having to be careful, to pretend that nothing was happening.

He'd been getting everything he wanted when this _feeling_ had come along to ruin everything.

He reassured himself that it might just be a phase, he wasn't used to people, maybe al friends went through this. Still, he doubted it.

When it'd been time to get up for practice he'd avoided speaking or looking at Aarch as much as possible. He couldn't avoid him completely or that would give away the fact that something was going on. He had to pretend it was just another day, as much as he could.

He threw himself into practice, but he knew he was a little off. He tried not to look at Aarch, but he couldn't help it, he couldn't control himself. He was losing it.

Aarch was as friendly as always throughout the day, it only made Artegor feel worse. At lunch Adium was flirting with Aarch again, Artegor gave tried not to stare, but he knew he was probably giving Adium a death glare. He met Adium's eyes briefly and she had narrowed them at him. He'd looked away hastily, afraid she would look at him and know everything. He felt so paranoid.

He wasn't able to sleep that night. Aarch was right there in the room with him, it made it hard to rest. He kept going over things in his head. He'd never been very romantic, he'd always laughed at the poor fools in love. He wasn't laughing now. He'd never felt like this before, he hadn't been prepared, he'd thought that no-one could breach his defences. Aarch had proved him wrong. Artegor knew he was in love but he didn't know what to do about it. He felt sure that he couldn't live through another day like that, something had to be done.

He wasn't sure how to get rid of a feeling, he'd never had emotional problems before. He'd been trying throughout the day to restrain himself, but everything Aarch had done had just made it all worse. There was something so perfect about Aarch, he played with such grace. He was the light where Artegor was the dark.

It was all too strange. Then, Artegor let himself hope a little, a tiny part of him thought that perhaps Aarch could return the feeling. That they could be together, and even more unstoppable team. Artegor tried to crush these thoughts, they were so unrealistic, but like everything else now, his own thoughts were out of his control.

He eventually slept and fell into more fevered dreams about Aarch.

A week passed and it was getting hotter and hotter by the day. They were all training hard for the match against the Pirates and yet Artegor was finding it hard to put all his full effort into it. Aarch had noticed that there was something wrong and had ventured to ask him what it was. Artegor had brushed the question aside, too nervous to say a thing, trapped in terror.

He got into and argument with Adium. He had bumped into her in the hallway and just continued walking.

"Well, excuse you!" she said, hands on hips. "Good manners don't cost a thing, you know?"

Artegor just blinked and replied. "The collision was just was much your fault as it was mine."

"I am so sick of your attitude, you walk around like you're so much better than everyone else, you barely speak to anyone on the team. I'm tired of it," Adium retorted, getting angrier by the second.

Aarch stepped in before the argument could continue.

"Hey, stop arguing we are a team," he'd said, and Adium had flounced off.

"What she said was uncalled for, but you still could have just apologised," Aarch said to him, sounding tired. He walked off, shrugging his shoulders, in the opposite direction to the way Adium had been going, leaving Artegor alone in the hallway. He was practically fighting tears; he couldn't bear to see Aarch angry with him.

He knew he had to get out of there, he left the academy and went for a walk in the nearby park. The sun was shining at full strength, and the park was filled with colourful flowers of all varieties, there were couples everywhere, sitting and holding hands. The happy scene only made Artegor more miserable. After several hours, when it was getting dark, he headed back to Akillian Football academy, knowing that he had to return.

He slumped back into the room and was greeted by the sight of Aarch, sitting on his bed, looking worried, like he was waiting for something.

"Artegor! Thank God! Where have you been for all this time?" Aarch asked, all at once. Artegor was surprised, had Aarch been worried for him?

"I've just been at the park," he offered, his voice faint and croaky. There was nothing he could say.

"What's wrong?" Aarch's voice was soft; his face was furrowed in concern. "You've been acting weirdly, can't you just tell me?"

"Nothing, there's nothing wrong," Artegor said, blinking unconvincingly.

Aarch knew not to push now or Artegor would run away again. Still, he also knew that he would eventually find out and that it would really be better for Artegor if he just shared whatever was bothering him.

"Well, if you ever have a problem, you can count on me," Aarch said in a tone that let Artegor know he was not convinced.

"Thanks," Artegor said, finding it sickly amusing that Aarch was the one person he could absolutely not tell.

He wasn't sleeping well; he was haunted by images of him and Aarch, together. He couldn't stop obsessing and it was tearing him apart inside.

A week later, the night before the Pirates match, and the situation hadn't progressed at all. There was a crucial match on the horizon and all Artegor could think about was Aarch. He was standing on the balcony, watching the setting sun, hoping for some sort of release, that the match would free him from the intolerable hopelessness of being in love with Aarch.

Artegor was startled by the sharp sound of Aarch opening the door and stepping out onto the balcony with Artegor.

"This has got to stop," Aarch said, firmly. "We have a match tomorrow, and you can't play like this."

"Like what?"

"You aren't fooling anyone, you aren't okay, it's obvious, what could be so bad that you can't tell your best friend?"

"I just…" Artegor said, trailing off, not knowing what he could say.

"Just tell me, you'll feel better," Aarch said, walking over to put his hand on Artegor's shoulder comfortingly. Artegor could feel his heart jump, Aarch was so close, so irresistibly close.

He couldn't stop himself, if he had stopped to think for just a second he would have realised it was a mistake but he didn't have that second.

Acting on pure impulse, he moved forward and kissed Aarch, slowly, nervously, unsure of exactly what he was doing, just knowing it felt like heaven. As good as football.

It was only a moment, a perfect moment, a moment that was shattered seconds later.

Aarch pushed Artegor off him, blinking confusedly, his face clouding so that his confusion turned to anger.

"What did you do that for?" he asked, wiping out any hope of a happy conclusion.

"I just…" Artegor repeated his earlier statement, he felt like has going to faint, he couldn't really accept this was really happening but the pain in his heart told him it was real.

"Well don't, I'm going to bed, we've got a match tomorrow," he said storming off, in an un-Aarch-like fashion.

Artegor didn't immediately follow him, he couldn't, he was rooted to the spot in his despair. It took all his will to haul his body into the room he inconveniently shared with Aarch and to go to bed. They didn't talk; Aarch was already pretending to be asleep by the time Artegor had got in there.

Artegor didn't get one wink of sleep that night. He felt misery envelop him like a cloak, suffocating him. It took all his effort not to cry, he didn't want to be so weak and besides, Aarch would surely hear him if he did.

When they got up in the morning they didn't talk, they didn't make eye contact, Aarch tried to pretend that Artegor didn't even exist. It felt like Artegor was being stabbed all over, he hated himself for being so stupid, now Aarch wasn't even his friend.

They sat apart on the shuttle on the way to their secret location, at opposite ends, from what the other members could see it looked like someone had died from the expressions on their faces. No-one dared get involved though.

What was important at that moment in time was the match.

The first half was a complete disaster. For once it was defence and midfield that had it all together, and it was the strikers that were ruining it for everyone. They had no co-operation, Aarch was just not passing the ball, and Artegor knew he was playing pretty badly himself. The trust between them was just gone. They were saved from complete disaster by a tight defence, Norata and Ciaran got the Breath and managed to keep the Pirates from scoring.

Still, at half time, no one was feeling good about the match.

"What are you guys doing down there?" Adium said, being the most confident about speaking up. "Defence can't hold up under the pressure much longer, pull it together!"

"We'll try," Aarch said, guiltily. Artegor just nodded, looking ashamed.

They looked at each other for a second, before they both looked away, in that second it had been communicated that although they were having problems, the match came first. They would have to play as a team even though they didn't feel like one.

They went out on the pitch and gave it all they had. It took a while to get back the instinctive partnership they had previously possessed, but eventually it came and they managed to score. Two goals. One each. They won.

Leaving the match, Artegor couldn't help but feel a little bit of hope, even though on the shuttle on the way back they still didn't talk, he hoped that perhaps Aarch could forgive him as he had seemed to on the pitch.

They'd gone back to their room and after a little while sat in dismal silence, Aarch spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"What?" Artegor felt like he was hallucinating, why Aarch was apologising to him.

"I over-reacted, I didn't mean to, I was just…surprised…"

"I'm sorry," Artegor said, feeling that he was the one who needed to apologise.

"You don't know how hard you've made it…I would never have known how I felt…" Aarch buried his head in his hand, rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache.

Artegor didn't say anything, just sat there; he didn't really know what Aarch was talking about, he couldn't possibly predict how the conversation was going to go.

"It's just…this can't be, okay? On Akillian, relationships between guys are just not accepted," Aarch said, mumbling, not meeting Artegor's eye.

Artegor was surprised, he hadn't expected that Aarch might return his feelings; he felt a sense of hope despite the fact that Aarch was saying it wouldn't work. Artegor didn't even really understand Aarch's reticence, did it really mattered what other people thought? It didn't especially matter to Artegor; then again, no-one really liked him in the first place. He wasn't like Aarch, he didn't have that much to lose.

Artegor strategically walked across the room and sat down on Aarch's bed next to him. He knew he could do this.

"We wouldn't have to mention it to anyone, it could be a secret," he said, lowering his voice, he wasn't going to let Aarch give up before it had even started.

"Well…"Aarch said, trailing off.

"You I'm right, things just can't go back to the way they were, not now." Artegor believed what he was saying, there was no point not going after what you wanted.

"But it has to be secret though," Aarch said, letting Artegor know he had won.

"Of course," Artegor replied, smoothly.

"Because if anyone knew…we'd never play again…" Aarch said, looking panicked not without reason.

"Calm down," Artegor said, smirking internally at the way the tables had turned. Now he was in control. Slowly, he kissed Aarch for the second time in his life, more confidently this time- less rushed.

He found it difficult to sleep that night, but it was not from misery but from joy. It felt like his heart was exploding because he couldn't contain the happiness he felt, the feeling was fairly alien to him. The sound of Aarch sleeping was now a comfort for him, and he knew then that the two of them could do anything. There were more victories to be won.

Practice the next day was slightly different. Aarch would catch his eye and they'd smile and then Aarch would quickly look away so that no-one noticed. Artegor felt certain that no-one else had noticed, people were usually too pre-occupied with their own lives to notice other people's.

It was announced that they would be facing the Technoids, news that was welcome to the team, they were just robots, there was no way they'd be able to beat human players.

The week progressed pretty much normally; normal practices, normal eating and everything. In public everything was the same. In private things were slightly different, even when they were just talking, there was something palpable between them.

They'd kissed some, but Aarch had got more and more nervous about it, especially after Norata had burst in unexpectedly and they'd had to spring apart instantaneously so that he wouldn't see. Artegor had wanted to laugh all the way through Norata and Aarch's conversation because of the guilty expression on Aarch's face. Clearly Aarch wanted to protect his poor innocent little brother from the 'terrible truth.'

It did grate on him though, whilst he was fine with being secretive- he was secretive by nature, he did wish that Aarch would stop being so jumpy all the time. Still, he had never expected to capture Aarch, so he was willing to make sacrifices to keep him.

When the match came, they were all feeling quietly confident. They had won their last match and now that the problem between the strikers had been solved, then it should be easy to beat a bunch of dumb robots!

The first half went well, but not as well as perhaps they had predicted. The techno-droids were better than they had thought, but still they had managed to score once, where the techno-droids were able to do nothing.

The second half was also successful, close the beginning of the half, the techno-droids scored a goal- there only goal. The Akillians fought back, scoring a further 3. So the match ended and the score was 4-1, a sweeping victory for the Akillians.

They celebrated as a team and then they'd all gone back to their separate rooms. Aarch had given Artegor a celebratory kiss and they'd gone to their separate beds. Artegor couldn't help but feel a little frustrated, sure, they'd only been together for a week (he refused to use the word dating) but still, everything was progressing so slowly. The kisses were so chaste and it was all because of Aarch's fear of getting caught, it put a dampener on everything. He wondered how long Aarch would continue to be afraid; it was funny, he was so fearless on the pitch but in his personal life he was always jumping at shadows.

They went to practice the next day, everyone was in a cheerful mood until coach announced who they would be playing against. The Shadows.

Now they were a team. Artegor wasn't sure whether they could beat them, he knew if they were to qualify for the final 16 then they would have to beat them, but he knew it wouldn't be easy. The Shadows had won the last cup and their Smog was one of the most powerful fluxes around.

The next week was completely dedicated to training; if they wanted to beat the Shadows then they would have to work hard. They were all exhausted after practice, the summer heat not helping any, so that all social interactions were at bare minimum, no-one had the energy.

The match came around sooner than anyone would have liked, but it came anyway. They played a decent first half, the score was tied, one all. Looking back on it, it would very difficult to remember the first half, or indeed most of the second half because of the events that happened within the last few minutes. Aarch had got his free kick and it had looked like they could win but the ball had frozen in mid air. It had shattered into pieces.

It had begun to snow, it was odd but they had barely any time to dwell on that, ice and wind swept through the air, covering the entire planet, stealing the Breath from their very blood.

The match had to be stopped and everyone scattered, went their separate ways, all hope of victory crushed like ice particles.

Artegor walked out of the pitch side door in a terrible mood to say the least. This match had been their big chance and now it was all over. Their team wouldn't be able to play after this. Artegor didn't know what had happened, where all the snow and ice had suddenly appeared from, but he knew it was the end. The end of him.

He was alone. The rest of his team-mates had gone to find their parents, Aarch had gone with Norata in the ambulance, he'd injured his leg somehow. Artegor was uninjured, but what did that count for without a team to play for? He didn't know where to go now, he wouldn't go back tail between his legs to his parents house, and he didn't know whether Akillian football academy would remain open.

He kicked at a pile of snow; it was probably the only thing he'd be kicking thanks to this stupid disaster. No-one even knew what had caused it, the weathermen certainly hadn't predicted it.

He was looking at the ground so he was surprised when he bumped into a tall, thin figure. He looked up, belligerently, in no mood to have to make an apology. He was surprised to see that he had walked into the Coach of the Shadows, Tillis, who was standing there with a purposeful and malicious grin.

"Artegor," he said, as if they were friends. "You won't be playing Galactik football for a while. It'll take ages to clean up this mess and not to mention that environmental shifts tend to wipe out a planet's flux."

"So you've come to boast then, well you can get lost, go back to your own planet," he said, taking out all his frustration on the irritating creature standing before him. It was enraging to him that he was taking pleasure in the destruction all everything he had worked for, his goals now unreachable. His potential would rot here on this pathetic little planet. Without flux he never had a chance. Sure, the other players could go back to their lives, but he (and Aarch) were more committed, this was their life.

"I am going back to my own planet…and I want you to come with me," Tillis said, smirking.

"What do you mean?" Artegor asked suspiciously, he hadn't expected that.

"We need strikers, our own are mediocre, we want to win and that requires better than mediocre. The interesting fact about the Smog is that it affects humans much more strongly; you'd be able to do more with it. I want you and Aarch for the Shadows."

Artegor had to admit that the idea was appealing, he'd always been in awe of the Shadows, they were a great team. Besides, he didn't really have any other options, he had to keep playing, it wasn't even a question.

"Aarch? He'd take some convincing," he said, implying his own willingness to go along with Tillis' scheme.

"That's why I came to you first; I think it'll go more smoothly if you tell him. I really want to the two of you on my team," he replied, smoothly.

Artegor balked at the implication that he might not take Artegor on his own, it was insulting, but he wanted this so badly that he let it go without comment. He made it his own personal mission to convince Aarch to agree, he did want Aarch there with him anyway. He needed Aarch to follow him.

"I'll convince him," he said, iron in his voice.

"Excellent, here's my number. I'll be leaving in 24 hours so you better work fast." Tillis passed Artegor the card and then swiftly turned and left without being so polite as to say goodbye.

Artegor looked down at the card, gripping it tightly; his face was set in determination. Now all he had to do would be to find Aarch.

He knew that Aarch come back to the Academy, if only because he needed to get his belongings, Artegor knew that Aarch and his father weren't on the best of terms, he'd hardly want to go back there.

It was two hours but Aarch eventually did make it back there. He walked into the room like he had a ten thousand ton burden on his shoulders and had flopped onto the bed before realising that Artegor was in the room.

"Artegor!" he said, putting his hand over his heart, in a gesture of shock. With the events of the day Aarch didn't feel like he could handle anything else, little did he know what bombshell Artegor was going to drop on him.

"Sorry to startle you," he said, stalling, he wasn't sure how to tell Aarch the news.

"It's fine." Although Aarch's tone indicated that he was far from fine, it was almost certainly not because of anything Artegor had done.

"Listen, Aarch, we've had an offer," Artegor said, slowly, knowing he had to tread carefully if he didn't want Aarch to refuse and bolt./

"Artegor, what are you talking about?" Aarch looked tired, too tired for beating around the bush.

"This doesn't have to be over, you know we're made for football, it wasn't supposed to end here," Artegor said, wildly, more emotion filtering through his voice than he intended.

"But how? Akillian doesn't have a hope," Aarch said, his voice conveying his pure despair.

"Akillian might not but we do. The Coach of the Shadows has offered us a place on his team, as strikers. This is our only chance, we have to take it."

"The Shadows? But…I can't, Artegor, Norata is having his leg amputated, I should stay with him and help him through it."

"He's lost the leg, staying won't bring it back, he's got a wife, and a child on the way. He's got a family to rely on. He's got a life. Football is ours," Artegor said, feeling convinced himself.

"Well…" Aarch was weakening, he still looked conflicted but Artegor knew it was because Aarch was as drawn to the idea of joining the Shadows as he was.

Artegor walked over to where Aarch was sitting on the bed and sat next to him. Then impulsively he pushed Aarch down and fiercely kissed him, his hand starting on Aarch's shoulder, moving downwards.

"Artegor!" Aarch exclaimed, shocked at the sudden aggressiveness, they'd always been more restrained before because Aarch was always so afraid that they'd get caught. A few hasty kisses were all they ever got.

"We'd be together, the Shadows wouldn't bother us, they are renowned for being anti-social. You wouldn't have to jump every time you heard a noise, always worrying about Norata and the rest of the team. We'd have a life," Artegor said, hating putting his feelings out there, but knowing that it was better than losing Aarch.

Aarch pause for a minute to consider it. "Let's go," he said simply.

They walked out of the room together, perfectly in sync; Artegor knew he had won everything when everyone else was losing.

**That is it for this chapter. Hopefully the next one will be up soon now that my exams are over; it'll probably be in about a week's time but who knows, it might come a bit sooner. Please review, it's always really helpful when writing future chapters to know what works and what doesn't. **


	3. Chapter 3: Autumn

Winter Lasts Forever, Chapter 3: Autumn 

**Disclaimer: ****I do not own Galactik football and I make no money from this fanfiction. This chapter contained some dialogue directly quoted which I definitely do not own.**

"Stop fidgeting," Artegor told Aarch, already sick of Aarch shifting around and tapping his fingers on the side of the seat in an annoying repetitive pattern. They'd been on the shuttle for all of 30 minutes and Aarch was already impatient to get the Shadows' Archipelago, no doubt it was because he hoped his decision would be final once he got there. They were between planets and hence were in a state of flux.

"Sorry," Aarch said, immediately stopping the tapping. He still didn't look entirely comfortable.

"It's the best thing to do; you can't sacrifice your potential over something that wasn't your fault. With the Smog we can become the greatest players in the galaxy; I'm sure of it."

Aarch nodded. "I just wish we were there already."

It would take a further few hours before they would reach the Shadows Archipelago, they were travelling in the same shuttle as their new teammates but in a separate section, Coach Tillis had said that the Shadows were never in the best mood whilst on long journeys, so it was better that he announce their two new players when they were back on the Shadow's planet. So all they could do was wait. Artegor was convinced that it was all going to go smoothly, once Aarch got out on the Pitch and played again, then all his doubts would be gone.

They eventually arrived on the Shadows Archipelago and they first had to wait for the Shadows to exit the shuttle and go back to their rooms before they were allowed to get off- they were to be presented in a formal setting under the customs of the Shadows, besides, they would be less cranky after some rest.

Tillis showed them to their room and then left them to settle in. The room wasn't the most peaceful; the walls were painted blood red and the carpet was a smoky grey colour. Artegor was amused to note that they had bunk beds; he predicted that there would be an argument as to who was on top. The room was minimally decorated, with only a few crystalline ornaments scattered around the room for decoration. It just screamed 'Shadows.'

"Well, this is...functional..."Aarch said, not entirely sure what to make of the room although he definitely wished that he had his old room back at Akillian Football Academy.

"It's fine," Artegor said, nodding. "Which bunk do you want?"

"I'll take the bottom bunk, if that's okay with you, I'm not too fond of heights," he explained.

Artegor nodded, dumping his stuff up onto the top bunk. The thought that it was going to be inconvenient climbing up there all the time suddenly occurred to him.

Some time after, Tillis finally came back and brought them to the Shadows dining hall where they were going to be introduced to the rest of the team.

"These are our newest recruits, Aarch and Artegor- formerly of Akillian," Tillis said, as they followed him, hesitantly.

They were led to some seats around a black, spiky table. This room was decorated much like their own room- lots of red. Artegor felt all the eyes of Shadows on them, more than a little hostile. He held his head high- he wasn't going to let them intimidate them.

They sat down and the food was produced. At first Artegor thought it was some kind of joke. He blinked at the small white cube of- he didn't even know what! All the Shadows started eating, cutting into four pieces and eating each piece slowly. Artegor and Aarch exchanged looks and realised that it was polite they did the same.

Artegor tried not to wince as he bit into what he assumed was meat of some kind. He was glad the meal was so miniscule, he wasn't sure how much of the stuff he could stand. He supposed the reason why Shadows were so ridiculously thin must be that they didn't really eat a lot.

After they had finished their starter there was an opportunity for conversation before the main course came.

"So how do you like our planet so far, humans?" one asked, in a surprisingly deep voice.

"It's interesting...very different to Akillian," Aarch said, smiling weakly, the famous Aarch-charm not fully operating.

"You better get the Smog or you won't stick around long," another said, prompting cruel laughter from the other Shadows.

'_They certainly aren't making it easy,' Artegor thought._

"We'll get it," he replied, his voice was calm but anyone with ears could hear the determination within it.

The Shadows were impressed with the two, although they didn't show it, there were not many humans who could stand a dinner with their team – they'd need backbone to get the Smog, it wouldn't come to weaklings.

They ate the main course, which was another, slightly larger cube- this time of something that was a faint purple colour. They ate it without complaint, although, it was vile. Artegor resolved that he and Aarch would address the food situation with the Coach as soon as he had the chance- they always had the excuse that they needed different nutrition and quantities if they wanted to play their best on the field.

After the main they were allowed to go back to their rooms- it seemed that a sweet pudding was not something that the Shadows indulged in. They were summoned to Tillis' office and they dutifully went.

"Now that you have officially been accepted into the team you can begin training, be ready tomorrow at 7. I'll also notify the league about your transfer," Tillis said, grinning in an evil sort of fashion.

Artegor was relieved that it was all going so smoothly, he then took the opportunity to 'inform' Tillis of the dietary requirements of humans and that situation was sorted out. All in all, it was going as well as it could do. Aarch was looking more reassured and Artegor was convinced that it was all going to work out well for the two of them. The Shadows' Planet was going to be an excellent new home.

They returned back to their room, pleased with the result of the conversation. Artegor could tell that Aarch, like himself, was just itching to get out onto the field again.

"I wonder how long it'll take for us to get the Smog," Aarch said, in a tone that was thoughtful, but also implied his desire to use a flux again.

"Not long, we're experienced footballers now, it won't take as long as the Breath did," Artegor replied, feeling certain that what he was saying was true despite having no evidence to suggest that he was right.

"You're right," Aarch said, smiling a little. It still made Artegor's heart skip a beat to see Aarch smiling like that, and now that smile would be only for him. Two Akillian boys amongst a sea of ghouls; they would have to rely completely upon each other. It was that thought that sent Artegor off to sleep, with a smile of his own on his lips.

They woke up the next morning, with what could have been called a 'bright and early' start were it not for the fact that being underground the only light was entirely artificial. They put on their practice uniforms and went down the pitch that they had seen so many times on television. It was difficult to believe they'd actually be playing on it.

Coach rounded them all up and told them what they would be doing and thus their first practice begun.

Practice ended, a few hours later, and the two of them were exhausted. Practice with the Shadows was far more gruelling than it had been on Akillian, they were all business, there was none of the laughing and joking that had gone on back on Akillian. Artegor considered this an improvement- after all football was serious business.

They stopped for Lunch, and Coach had produced the only human food available on the planet at that time- Akillian Sauerkraut- Aarch would almost preferred Shadows food. Luckily, Coach had ordered a shipment of food from Akillian that would hopefully arrive soon, but until then, they would have to put up with the Sauerkraut.

Then they had a quick rest to allow the food to go down, and then they went back out to train again. By the end of the day they were both so exhausted that they didn't talk at all, they just went straight to sleep. There wasn't really time for either of them to deeply ponder how their first day had gone, but if they had, then they would probably have said it had gone well.

The next day was pretty much the same; they were starting to find their feet with the Shadows team and already a sense of team unity and flow was starting to pull together. The day after that again, was similar.

The fourth day was slightly different. In many aspects it was similar, the tough training, the long hours but it was different because Artegor got the Smog. He'd been passed the ball by the Shadows midfielder and all of a sudden he felt a rush of energy, like a sudden storm cloud descending over him and he knew he could do it. He disappeared into thin air, reappearing in the air and then he shot at goal. He'd never made a more powerful shot. By the time he came back down he was buzzing with energy. In some ways the sensation was similar to the Breath, but in other ways it felt completely different. It was interesting, disappearing into thin air, Artegor could have sworn he had been somewhere else- a completely different dimension, before reappearing. The sensation was bizarre but Artegor liked it. He could feel the Smog more strongly than he ever could the Breath, he could still hear the white-noise of it in his ears, reverberating throughout his entire body. He felt powerful.

"Wow!" Aarch said, looking seriously impressed. Artegor felt proud, he loved the look of adoration on Aarch's face, he loved feeling like the best.

The other Shadows seemed impressed too, in their own sort of way. There'd be no further doubts about his place on the team now he had the Smog, he doubted that it would take long for Aarch to get it either and so they'd be fully established; they'd be able to take their place as the greatest striker team the Galaxy had ever known. With the Smog racing through his veins, Artegor felt like anything was possible.

Later that day, after practice, Aarch was ready to just crash and go to sleep as usual when Artegor stopped him.

"Wait, let's not go to sleep just yet. We never spend any time together at the moment," Artegor said, his good mood meaning that he was willing to be a little more open than he would normally.

"We see each other all day, we're always together!" Aarch pointed out, incredulously.

"I meant alone," Artegor said, raising an eyebrow. He was feeling far too energetic to just let it go, besides, he didn't drag Aarch all the way the Shadows so they could spend all their time just sleeping.

He reached out and grasped Aarch's wrists with his own hands, pinning him against the wall. He suddenly felt a surge of aggression, inflamed heat in his bloodstream taking over, easily pushing aside any remaining reservations. He kissed Aarch with such force that Aarch was taken aback. Normally this was the point where Aarch would shy away; using their team-mates as an excuse, but now there would be no interruption. The Shadows kept to themselves.

The kissed continued to come, hard and furious, leaving them exhilarated and breathless. Artegor loved the freedom of it and the simplicity, pure feeling without all those other excesses. This was who he was now.

The next morning, when Artegor awoke, he found himself on the floor of their room, head feeling groggy. Clearly he must have fallen out of Aarch's bed sometime during the night and just not woken up; after all, there wasn't really enough room for two people to sleep on a single bed comfortably.

Memories of the previous night started to flood through his mind causing him to smile, he watched Aarch sleep for a minute before getting him up for practice, they still couldn't afford to be late.

Their first match playing with the Shadows was announced, it'd be soon and it'd be the last before going to Genesis Stadium to play in the final 16. The Shadows had already won enough matches to know that they qualified, but it would still be idea to win, if only to show off their new strikers.

Aarch seemed more concerned with the fact that by that point, the media were notified as to the transfer, meaning that the whole of Akillian would know- the thought made him nervous. Aarch hadn't been in contact with anyone from Akillian since he had left the planet and he was pretty sure that they wouldn't be taking it well. The fact that it had been announced to everyone in the Galaxy now effectively sealed his fate: there was no way he could turn back, he'd never go back to Akillian now. Artegor hadn't left anything but bad memories behind; for him it was a relief to be shot of Akillian. All his thoughts were on the upcoming match and glory he would feel once they won.

For Aarch, practice was much the same but for Artegor a whole new world of possibilities had been opened up by acquiring the Smog. He was fascinated by it, by the things it allowed him to do, the teleportation was a particular favourite of his. He loved the feeling of raw power; in comparison the Breath seemed shallow and overly civilised. He was getting better with it too; soon he'd be ever better than the Shadows who had been using it for years.

"What does the Smog feel like? Is it different to the Breath?" Aarch asked, curiously that night. He wanted to develop the Smog soon, every time he watched Artegor play with his new flux, a wave of longing washed over him making him feel impatient and a little jealous.

"It's entirely different. It's far stronger; I can feel it all the time, even now. It'll make us great; greater than we ever could have been had we stayed on Akillian. Looks like the ice-age was the best possible thing that could have happened to us," he said, smirking.

"Artegor! That's the tragedy of our planet you are talking about...think about Norata, he lost his leg for crying out loud, it's not a laughing matter," Aarch cried out in shock.

"This is our planet now," Artegor insisted. It was too bad that Norata had lost his leg but he couldn't bring himself to really care.

Aarch said nothing in reply, but still he felt disturbed by Artegor's attitude towards the planet that had been their home. The planet they had abandoned. Aarch still felt guilty, he hadn't even tried to contact anyone back on Akillian, he didn't know what he could say. He had to live in the present, and he felt that perhaps he should attempt to put the past behind him as easily as Artegor had done.

"You're not still angry are you?" Artegor asked, a little while later, perturbed by Aarch's unnatural silence.

"No, I just haven't really adapted to living here yet, that's all," Aarch replied, although he still felt a little disturbed by Artegor's apathy on the subject of Akillian.

They didn't really talk about it again, although Akillian was always at the back of Aarch's mind, he could never quite wash his hands of the guilt.

The rest of the time before their first match with the Shadows passed quickly, Aarch still hadn't developed the Smog yet, but they were still assured that they could win the match.

It was a home match, so they didn't have to travel anywhere, the Rykers (whom they would be facing) would have to come to them.

"I'm not sure black really suits me," Aarch said, looking down at the Shadow's uniform that he had donned for the first time. He wasn't really that interested in clothes, but he was trying to hide his nerves by talking about something trivial.

"It suits you fine," Artegor replied, despite, secretly agreeing with Aarch- the white and blue Akillian uniform had suited Aarch's complexion better.

"It looks great on you though," Aarch said, noticing the way that the black uniform clung to Artegor's body. Artegor would have blushed if he were the blushing sort.

Soon after, all the players were rounded up to hear a speech from Tillis. He kept it simple; they were simply instructed to win at any cost.

Soon, it was time and they stepped out onto the field, punching the air in a show of spirit. After both teams had performed the (rather embarrassing) dances, they took their positions and waited anxiously for the match to really begin.

The first half was tough; both the Shadows and the Rykers played in a similarly aggressive style, making them difficult to overpower. Artegor had scored a goal, making use of his new Smog, proving his worth to the entire galaxy. Unfortunately, the Rykers had also managed to score, meaning that as of half time the score was one all.

Coach gave them another speech, emphasising the need to kill/crush/destroy their opponent, and then they were let back on the pitch with strict orders not to lose. Tillis had risked a lot by taking on two human players(it had never been done before)so he didn't want to be shown up by having them lose the game.

Artegor was pleased that Tillis understood what was important, not like their pathetic coach back on Akillian who had always ranted on and on about doing your best and the merits of team-work. Now he was on a real galactik football team.

In the second half they played harder, with even more determination and aggression. Artegor scored again, a victory that was soon cancelled out by the Rykers scoring another goal. Soon, there were only a few minutes remaining, a goal would have to be scored if they wanted to win. The Shadows midfielder passed the ball to Aarch. Aarch felt the pressure of his team-mates- the Shadows with their sunken faces, their eyes burning like coals, urging him on to score. He could see Artegor, on the other side of the field, his face set in the resolve that they could still win, they would still win.

As Aarch felt time slow, and the pressure to take his shot mount, he felt a sudden sensation, like irritation under the skin bursting out to the surface. The Smog suddenly appeared around him, like a cloak, and he kicked the ball, as hard as he could towards the goal. Naturally, he scored and so the match ended 3-2, Shadows. They had won.

The sports commentators had been in awe of the two of them, it was such a usual situation and they had learned to use the Smog so quickly. No-one had seen anything like it. The question of how Tillis had known that the Smog would not only work for outsiders, but also be more powerful for them, was never raised (mostly due to fear) although there had been suspicions about experiments having been done by the Shadow's government.

"Congratulations on getting the Smog," Artegor said, once they got back to the room. He was genuinely pleased, now the two of them would really be able to take their football careers further.

"Thanks." Aarch was also glad to finally have the Smog, despite the grating feeling that it produced, it wasn't as simple as the Breath, there was a great deal more pain, but also more power to be gained. "I can't believe we'll be going to Genesis Stadium soon..."

"It's the chance of a lifetime," Artegor said, sidling up, closer to Aarch. "Now, what should we do to celebrate?"

Aarch grabbed Artegor by the collar of the Shadows uniform that he hadn't yet changed out of, and pulled him into a forceful meeting of lips. Aarch could feel Artegor's mouth form a smirk that was a sudden as the onset of Smog.

The next morning they had to pack all their things (not that this was hard, they hadn't brought much with them) and they went on the shuttle to Genesis stadium. They'd start playing matches soon after. They were both excited to be playing in the final 16, it was everything they had dreamed about for years, but Aarch was also eager to get out from the Shadows planet. He had been getting claustrophobic, there was something about living underground that he just didn't like, it was so oppressive.

When they arrived, they were greeted by the flash of what seemed like thousands of cameras, paparazzi all dying to ask questions of the Shadow's human striker pair. Artegor winced as the light flashed in his eyes, wishing he had worn sunglasses. On the Shadows' Archipelago they had been shielded from all that sort of attention which was a great advantage in Artegor's opinion.

They managed to escape the paparazzi without answering any questions and they were shown to their hotel room. The room was slightly bigger than the one back at the Shadows and Aarch was relieved to see that it was decorated in neutral tones of white and beige- he had been getting sick of all the red. They dumped their stuff without bothering to unpack and went down to visit Genesis Forest on Aarch's instance that it was be interesting to see it in its artificial Autumn. Artegor assumed it was something left over from having a father who was a florist. They had the rest of the day off anyway to get used to Genesis before the tough training really began.

Aarch fingered the leaves of the trees, thoughtfully, Norata would have loved Genesis Forest, he would have started spewing facts about the plants in a heart-beat. Aarch wondered how he was doing back on Akillian, hoping that his wife was taking good care of him. He quickly turned his thoughts back to the present, it did no good the dwell on the past, and he had more important things to be thinking about.

Artegor looked around the forest, impatiently; he wasn't especially interested in plants. He felt increasingly impatient, pacing around whereas Aarch was just walking normally. When he wasn't practicing he just didn't feel the same, the Smog had spoiled him for anything else.

They soon went back to the room and got an early night, knowing they would have to be up early for even more gruelling training. They couldn't wait.

It was announced the next day that they would be facing the Wambas in the quarter finals. Artegor could already taste the victory and it tasted sweet.

"I think we can beat the Wambas," Aarch said, later, considering it seriously, his mind going over various strategies the Wambas were known to use on the field and analysing them.

"They'll be no match for the two of us," Artegor agreed, smiling internally at Aarch's expression of serious concentration. It was simple moments like this that forcibly reminded Artegor why he loved Aarch so much, it was his simplicity, his naturalness, he was everything Artegor wasn't and instead of resentment it caused him to need Aarch more than he had ever needed anyone. It didn't really make sense to Artegor but he had learnt to accept it for what if was.

Sometimes he worried though, despite his new found confidence, that Aarch didn't really feel as strongly as he did, that for Aarch the relationship was based on mere physical attraction. He felt like a girl for worrying about such things, but still he did. Aarch was the only person he had ever loved, the only person he needed in the entire galaxy. Aarch was his and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

The next week was filled with training and exploring Genesis. Aarch seemed to insist on visiting every possible place, from the amusement park to the shopping centre. Artegor didn't really see the point himself, but he humoured Aarch and came along for the ride. It was rare that any of the other Shadows came along with them, they, like Artegor, didn't really understand why Aarch wanted to go on all those trips, and unlike Artegor, they openly displayed their disdain. Eat, sleep and train, that was the Shadow's life, there was no time for trivialities like fun (Aarch suspected that it was the Spartan lifestyle that led the Shadows to be so aggressive).

Neither Aarch nor Artegor got much sleep before their first match at Genesis Stadium. It was as much from excitement as from the fear of being eliminated. Already, Artegor could hear the cheers of the crowd, he could feel the Smog racing through on his bloodstream, he wanted the night to be over with so he could win the match. They had won their last match with the Shadows, but they still had to prove it wasn't just a fluke.

The match went well, they had encountered a lot of resistance from the Wambas initially, but as the match went on, it was obvious that they were no match for the power of the Shadows. They slaughtered them. The Smog just seemed to be growing more and more powerful within them.

Aarch insisted that they go out to a bar to celebrate the victory, he of course insisted on inviting the rest of the team but only Deska (the only female member of the team) accepted their invitation.

So there they were, the three of them sat at the bar. At first they had discussed tactics and the upcoming matches but then an uneasy void of conversation settled over them. Of course Aarch didn't seem to feel it, he was as comfortable with Deska as he was with everyone, asking her questions about her life.

"So, when did you join the Shadows?" he asked, seeming, as always, genuinely interested.

"It was just before the last cup. Their last defender became permanently injured so I stepped in," she said, a hint of a smirk on her face. Artegor somewhat suspected her of having deliberately injured the other player in order to take his position.

Aarch merely nodded, not reading any malice into her words as Artegor was. "Did your parents approve?"

She shook her head. "I was the first female footballer to ever play for the Shadows; they didn't accept it at first. It was stupid, we play just as well, there is only difference is in appearance."

'_What difference?' Artegor thought, to him they all looked exactly the same._

"The major problem," she continued, "is that Shadow men are so...aggressive, I prefer a more sensitive type..." Her dark eyes gleamed as she stared at Aarch.

Artegor noticed and feeling unbelievably irritated, ordered another drink. He didn't even know why he had come, he might as well had not been there. Watching Deska put her bony hand on Aarch's shoulder made Artegor want to bash her head in. Her artificially soft voice made him want to rip her voice box out of her throat, she was just as hard as the rest of the team, obviously the distressed damsel act was all false. He desperately wanted Aarch to walk away, to reject her, to do something. But he didn't. He continued to talk to her. He didn't even notice Artegor getting more and more angry, and ordering more and more drinks.

By the time they left, Artegor was completely unable to walk in a straight line, he swayed from side to side, having to lean on both Aarch and Deska in order to stabilise himself. He felt stupid thoughts filtering through his brain, wanting to vocalise them, but knowing, even in this state that he shouldn't say anything in front of Deska because Aarch wouldn't like it.

But when they got back to the room, that was a different story.

"What the hell was that about?" he slurred, angrily, flopping on the floor, too inebriated to even attempt going up the ladder to his bed.

"What do you mean?" Aarch's tone was impatient, he didn't know why Artegor had been so foolish as to drink to the point where he was no longer able to walk in a straight line.

"Oooooh, I like a sensitive man!" he said in a falsetto that was highly inaccurate for Deska's deep voice that was typical of the Shadows. "She was all over you."

"Artegor, you're drunk, she was just being friendly," Aarch replied firmly.

"It's not fair though," he whined, not in control of anything he said. "I love you so much and you only just like me…I don't know why you even came to the Shadow's archipelago when you are always whining about Akillian."

Aarch coughed suddenly, taking a sip of water to clear his throat, he hoped he wasn't ill, it was crucial that he was in top condition for the finals.

"You're drunk, you can sleep in my bed, and I'll brave the heights and sleep in yours," Aarch said, his face hard, feeling only the slightest twinge of compassion for Artegor. At that point he didn't think Artegor knew what he was saying and he was tired and wanted to sleep. He felt so irritated that Artegor had let himself get into this condition. It was lucky for Artegor that they didn't have training until the afternoon.

He shifted restlessly in Artegor's bed, wondering whether Artegor had meant anything that he had said or it had merely been the alcohol. There was no way to tell. He certainly wasn't fond of Artegor's possessiveness, whenever Aarch tried to so much as talk to anyone else, Artegor got so jealous when there was really no need to be.

By midday, Artegor was forced to get up, he felt like his head was splitting in too and a general grogginess had descended over him. He remembered something vague about having been to a bar with Aarch and Deska and an argument but the exact details were blurry. He vowed never to drink so much again.

He pulled his practice uniform on in a daze, wondering where Aarch was, and managed to marginally freshen up before practice. He managed to get to practice on time and he saw Aarch there, not looking happy. Throughout the practice he managed to maintain some semblance of not being completely hung over, although every time he used the Smog his headache just got worse.

Aarch seemed a little distant as well, Artegor could tell by the way he was playing and not making any eye contact. Artegor dreaded to think what he might have said when under the influence. He resolved to apologise for whatever it was later (he hated apologising; he avoided it as much as possible, mostly because he always believed he was in the right). He tried not to panic, but he could feel fear rising in him, he couldn't lose Aarch, the idea was just incomprehensible to him.

"What happened last night?" he asked, after practice, figuring that he might as well just ask outright.

"You don't remember?" Aarch raised one eyebrow pointedly.

"I drank too much," he replied.

"You're right about that," Aarch said, shortly, not wanting to give away everything immediatly, his chin set stubbornly.

Artegor just looked at him, with what other people had described as his Medusa stare. He waited and after a beat Aarch cracked.

"You were being unreasonable, but it's over, let's forget about it," Aarch said, feeling too suddenly exhausted to argue. He started to cough violently.

"Aarch? Are you okay?" Artegor asked, in concern, once the coughing had subsided.

Aarch smiled weakly. "Yeah, I guess I just have a bit of a cough."

They walked off together, argument mostly forgotten; these were the glory days, too good to waste with petty squabbles.

The week's training went fast, Aarch's cough occasionally resurfaced but it was pronounced 'not worthy of action' by Tillis, who seemed to act as physician as well as Coach. It was the Shadows, the Lightenings, the Rykers and the Technoids who had got through to the semi-finals and by the luck of the draw, the Shadows were facing off against the Technoids, the weakest team by common opinion. Tillis had warned them not to underestimate them, they had received upgrades recently and were still a team to be reckoned with, but still they were the focus of the few jokes that were made in the Shadow's training sessions.

The match was as easy as they had initially thought. The thing about robots was that it was particularly difficult to perform fouls on them, which meant that Shadows couldn't quite play their usual game. It was frustrating to Artegor who had already gotten used to the strategy of going to any length to secure victory, even violence. Aarch hadn't adopted this viewpoint yet and his playing style had not yet changed much from his Akillian days. The first half ended without a single goal being scored, for either side. They stepped up their game in the second half, using the Smog so often that it was difficult to see for all the black smoke. They played unpredictably and it worked. They managed to win 2-0 meaning that they would play in the final against the Lightenings who had secured their spot by defeating the Rykers.

They had a week to train and they weren't going to mess it up by celebrating the win of the semi-final, they knew it was wiser to stay away from bars and other distractions. The idea of playing in the final was scary, it would be the most important match of their career thus far, the most important test to see what they were worth. This was exciting too, it was the opportunity of a lifetime and one that they were determined to seize upon with full might.

Still, the Lightenings were on fire, and the Shadows had won the last cup; it was almost unheard of that a team won twice in a row. Aarch and Artegor were in total harmony for the week preceding the match, their dream of winning perfectly aligned; nothing could have separated them then.

Tillis was pushing them hard, harder than usual, there was no room for the slightest mistake. He barked orders left, right and centre, hoping to shout the mistakes out of them.

After all that training, the day finally came, the morning passing in a strange blur, slowing as soon as they set foot on the field. Artegor could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he took his position, looking at Aarch, reaffirming their connection.

'_This is it,' he thought, sizing up his opponents._

The first half was tight, but it belonged to the Shadows. They scored two goals to the Lightening's one. Victory was so easily within reach. Tillis warned them not to become arrogant, but they didn't listen, Smog drowned everything else out.

They were fools. As it happened so often in football, the second half was a complete reversal. The Lightenings scored a goal early in the first half. And although Aarch scored again for the Shadows, the Lightenings managed to score another two goals, easily overwhelming the Shadows goalkeeper that had always been the team's weak link. Then the sound that signified the end of the match sounded, that shameful sound like a death knell, the ball disintegrating underneath their feet.

Artegor collapsed to his knees, slamming his fist on the Astroturf, the hiss of Smog growing unbearable. It had been within his grasp, their grasp, and they had lost it. They had been so close. Seeing the Lightenings parading around in triumph killed him, he could barely resist the urge to commit some wanton act of violence against them, the Smog in his veins urging him on. Instead he got up and walked off with the rest of his loser team-mates in silence. No doubt this would be the beginning of a great Lightening dynasty. That the light had won over the dark was just incomprehensible; Artegor knew it wasn't supposed to go that way.

The Shadows didn't mope around for long, it wasn't in their nature. Instead, the grief for their lost match was expressed entirely through vicious vows of revenge and further plotting. Tillis had already assured them that they would they would undergo training that would make their previous sessions look like a child's playgroup. It was as much a punishment for losing as it was a tool to win in the future.

Aarch and Artegor didn't talk about it when they were alone, but they both knew it was all that was on their minds. They knew that there would be other chances and that they could win next time, but the loss was still raw. Aarch almost could have justified having left Akillian if he had won.

They went back to Shadows to start training again there. After the relative freedom of Genesis, Aarch found going back there oppressive. Being underground, there were no seasons; Artegor knew it bothered Aarch more than it bothered him. Artegor would wake to the sound of Aarch pacing around the room, head in hands, zombie-like from insomnia. Artegor wanted to say something but didn't. Aarch was too proud to talk about it.

He was coughing more often (Tillis still instisted that it was nothing) and seemed constantly agitated. It was a contrast to how he was during practice, he was strong there, he seemed so distant and strong, like a god in action. Tillis had stuck to his word and was pushing them so hard that Artegor could have sworn they could all have fallen apart at any moment. The Smog was the only thing keeping them together.

A few months after the cup, matches started again. They weren't official matches really, just 'friendlies' to keep them all in shape. Artegor was optimistic that playing in the matches would pull the team together; Aarch was always in a better mood when he was playing matches. Artegor still felt certain that they could be the greatest players ever; they'd had but a small setback in their loss to the Lightenings. They were stronger now that they had been then.

Artegor had high hopes for that first match against the Cyclops. It was only a friendly, so it didn't count for much, but still he hoped to see the Shadows rise like smoke again. There was no way that Artegor could have predicted that this friendly match would be the most important match of his life, the match that would set his life's course even more so than the fateful match on Akillian the day the ice-age struck.

It started like any ordinary match, they went out onto the field, anticipation high, feeling the need to prove themselves again. The Cyclops were there, their one eye looking more helpless than terrifying, the Shadows stood and sneered at their short, squat little bodies as they stood there. The Shadows were out for blood, the Cyclops didn't stand any chance, they were just prey.

They slaughtered them in the first half, or they would have had the Cyclops not been hanging on so tenaciously, still they were wearing out rapidly and the Shadows were running rings around them. Artegor had never felt better, his head felt cleared of all other thoughts but the game, the victory.

By the second half the score was nil-nil and the match was coming to an end, Artegor knew they could score, the fact that it was so close to the end would only make the victory sweeter. Aarch had the ball and started to charge, it seemed that he was unstoppable.

It was then that he fell; he lay there like an insect flipped on its back, the Smog revolting around him, leaking out of him like oil. Everyone had rushed towards him; Artegor felt a jolt in his heart at seeing Aarch, so strong only moments ago, now so helpless. He knelt by his side, rushing, the dreadful sense of ending closing in around him.

"Artegor, I can't go on, the Smog is making me sick. We have to stop," Aarch said, looking pained. He expected the two of them to just leave, to give up; Artegor knew he couldn't do that. This was all he had.

"What are you talking about? We never played so well before; we're going to become the greatest players ever," he replied, desperately scrambling at some way of getting Aarch to change his mind, to stay.

The next words that Aarch would say would be the words that broke his heart. "I don't care, not at this price."

Artegor's eyes widened visibly at Aarch's declaration, the Aarch he had known had wanted it all so much, he'd craved it as much as he had. His words were a total rejection of everything Artegor was and everything they had been together.

"Don't let me down." He couldn't help but repeat the words over and over, fixated so that it seemed that it was only him and Aarch left there on the pitch, the moment stretching for an eternity. It was his death, their death.

Aarch just shook his head, there was nothing he could say, he just knew he couldn't stay there, he had to leave. Artegor had tears in his eyes as he watched the stretcher carry Aarch away. With one sweep he lost the only person he had ever loved.

**That's it for this chapter; next one will probably be next Saturday. Please review, don't be shy, I'd love to hear your comments!**


	4. Chapter 4: Winter

Winter lasts forever, Chapter 4: Winter

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction.**

The match ended minutes later but Artegor barely cared, he only cared about Aarch in that moment. The Cyclops were doing their cocky little dance, just relieved not to have been beaten by the Shadows. Normally Artegor would have wanted to start something right then but he felt unable to move, like he hoped that if he stayed still Aarch would come back. He had to be dragged off the pitch by his team-mates.

By the time he got back to his room, Aarch's things had already gone, Artegor doubted he had collected them himself, but ordered someone else to do it. He'd gone completely. Sources already put him on a shuttle out of planet Shadow to some unknown destination. He'd left so quickly, there had been no deliberation like there had been over leaving Akillian, he had clearly been desperate to leave.

Artegor slumped on the floor, unable to contain his tears. They'd had so much, they could have been the greatest strikers ever, it was within their grasp and Aarch had just let it all go…He'd left without leaving a trace, without leaving any indication that he'd ever cared at all. Artegor's throat tightened, he didn't know what to do, it seemed there was nothing he could do. The worst part was that he couldn't speak to Aarch; he couldn't try to convince him to change his mind, to come back.

The light in the room was unbearable, it physically hurt his eyes. He managed to haul himself up to turn off the light and then lay himself down in Aarch's bunk. He hugged the cover around him tight, enveloped by the scent of Aarch that still remained. Despite the darkness in the room he could still see the 'ceiling' that was created by the bunk above him, his bunk. He knew that this was what Aarch could see every night when he tried to get to sleep.

It took a very long time for Artegor to eventually get to sleep but when he did he didn't dream; he couldn't.

The next few days passed slowly, so slowly. The world seemed entirely made up of grey and Artegor could barely find the energy to do anything. Football practice just wasn't the same, just being on the pitch that Aarch had played on so many times made him feel sick with longing, his body racked with shaking when he remembered how it had been. Artegor didn't expect that he would be able to live much longer like this; every minute was a trial, every hour a lifetime of misery. He thought that he would surely die if this torment continued.

He continued to sleep on Aarch's bed, not being able to face his own bunk. The empty room was killing him, every night he would come back after practice to find silence, like a total vacuum with only memories left. Even the happiest of memories couldn't satisfy him, they only added to his memory, forever tainted by what had happened. It would never make him happy because Artegor knew how it ended.

Tillis summoned him to his office, as usual not bothering to inform him what about. For all Artegor knew he could be kicking him off the team- a thought that alarmed Artegor despite his emotional numbness. He couldn't go back to Akillian; if he was asked to leave he would have no-where to go. He didn't want to leave the place where he and Aarch had been happy, if it had only been for a while.

As it happened, Tillis didn't want him to leave at all; he knew what a good investment Artegor was.

Artegor stood there, dead eyed, whilst waiting for Tillis to speak and deliver his fate.

"I know where Aarch is," he said suddenly.

Artegor's eyes immediately widened, he was snapped out of his despondency and felt new vigour infuse his being. If he knew where Aarch was then he had a chance, an opportunity, to get him back.

"Where?" he asked, impatiently. He knew he'd follow Aarch anywhere, no matter how remote, he needed him back.

Tillis chose to ignore the question, his entire posture suggested control where Artegor's suggested tension and scarcely controlled emotion. He raised an eyebrow. "You wish him to come back to the team?"

"Yes." Artegor's answer was short but even the most impervious person could have heard the determination in it, the sheer force of truth behind it.

Tillis was no fool, he knew Artegor was suffering. He didn't know much about humans but he knew that it was uncommon to react in such an extreme fashion to the loss of a friend; he suspected a deeper bond between them. It didn't matter to him anyway; the important thing was that he could use the situation to his advantage. Aarch was a great player, if Artegor could con him into coming back despite his ill health (Tillis had known all along about the risk of Smog poisoning), then it could only to be to the team's advantage. But if not, well then Artegor would be alone, it would be easy to make him into the perfect instrument for the Smog, and all those negative feelings would only serve to make him a far greater player. It was a win-win situation for him.

"He's on Wambas, I'll arrange a shuttle to get you there. Try and get him back for us, the Shadows need him," Tillis said, maintaining the guise of helpfulness.

Artegor just nodded, knowing that he would only have this one chance, he couldn't lose Aarch forever, the thought was just unbearable.

He felt on edge for the entire shuttle journey, he was so nervous but at the same time, he was glad to have a sense of purpose. He went over what he might say, again and again in his head, planning for every response that he might get.

When he landed he was immediately met by some of the Wambas, and he was quickly escorted to Aarch's room, where he was left to have a private conversation. Usually the Wambas were more friendly, but Artegor could sense their distrust of him- they had no doubt been bullied by Tillis into allowing him to be there, Tillis was good at getting his way.

He paused for a moment outside Aarch's door, taking a deep breath, before entering without knocking. He was greeted by the sight of Aarch, lying there, looking in better condition than he had on the pitch but still weak. He was still unnaturally still, Aarch had been so energetic that it was rare that he would be completely without motion.

Aarch was awake and he immediately turned his head, expecting to see his healer, Dame Simbai, but was surprised to see Artegor standing there. He had to wonder whether he was hallucinating as a result of his medicines.

"Artegor?" he said in a croaky voice.

Artegor walked into the room, slowly, until he sat down at a chair at Aarch's bedside. "It's me. How are you?"

"I'm getting better," Aarch said smiling.

"That's good," Artegor said, feeling awkward. Seeing Aarch made it all so real again, he could feel himself being drawn into Aarch's web again. Artegor usually didn't give second chances but for Aarch he'd make an exception, Aarch could make him bend and break all of his rules. "When are you coming back?"

Aarch sighed. "Artegor, I can't go back there, the Smog is killing me. It'll affect you too; perhaps you should get some treatment."

"The Smog has done nothing but make me a better player, I can't believe you'd be willing to throw your career away like this," he shouted, desperation making him angry.

"I can't have a career if I'm dead," Aarch replied, quietly.

"Stop saying that! It's not the Smog, that's just your excuse!"

"Look, Artegor…" Aarch started, upset by Artegor's obvious distress.

"Please…please, just come with me, you belong with the team." Artegor's voice cracked, he was truly begging, another activity he was not fond of. Aarch had reduced him to this, a vulnerable wreck of a human being. He had been so strong only a week ago. He hated that Aarch had that power over him, even in his weakened state.

"I don't belong there, I should never have left Akillian," he said, shaking his head, sadly. Unlike Artegor, Aarch was resigned to his fate. He knew it was never going to work with both the team and with Artegor. He just wanted to move on.

"No, no, no. That's not right. You wanted to be the greatest player ever."

"I did, but not at the cost of everything else."

"I love you," Artegor said, saying the one thing he swore he'd never say. He was putting everything on the line, all his pride and all his emotions.

"I know, but it just isn't working out. We tried," Aarch said, with a horrible sense of finality despite the tinges of regret in his voice. Aarch was tired, he couldn't muster the energy to fight anymore, he just wanted it to be over.

Artegor felt lost for words. It was clear that Aarch didn't love him, the rejection was entirely personal, there was no way to win now. He felt everything crumbling around him, everything he had hoped for, the life he had built destroyed. He turned and left and Aarch didn't even try to stop him.

As he stormed off he was unfortunate enough to bash shoulders with a human woman walking in the opposite direction.

"You must be Artegor," she said in her smooth, accented voice. She reached out and grabbed Artegor's face holding it still whilst peering intently into his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he exploded, he was in the worst possible mood and all he wanted to do was get out of there.

"Hmmmm, your eyes hurt, don't they? It's a result of living underground, if you're going to stay with the Shadows, then I would recommend that you start wearing protection for your eyes when exposed to light, sunglasses would do."

"Thanks for the tip," he replied, acidically, continuing his march in the other direction. She was right but he wasn't about to admit that now. He couldn't help but speculate as to whether she was the reason Aarch was so adamant about staying and that made him automatically hostile towards her.

He made it to the shuttle without and further interaction and he went back to the Shadows, tail between his legs. His heart felt utterly broken, Aarch had been so dismissive, so cruel. He had never really expected this to happen. He'd thought that he'd known Aarch. Now he couldn't be sure of anything.

He got back the Shadows Archipelago and was immediately summoned to Tillis' office.

"You were unsuccessful?" Tillis asked, knowing full well that it hadn't worked out for the striker.

"He's not coming back," Artegor replied, numbly, as much for his own benefit as for Tillis'.

"How selfish of him... Still, he always was the weaker of the two of you; he wasn't strong enough to handle the Smog, not like you. We'll be better of without him. Just think, with him gone, you'll be the undisputed star. There was never enough room in the Galaxy for two champions, he was holding you back. You can be better, you can prove to him what a mistake he made leaving…the team," he said all this slowly, knowing that he had Artegor, there was no other option for him, he had no-where else to turn.

Artegor threw himself into his training, taking refuge in the ever more powerful Smog, letting it drown everything else out. He could feel his heart, once so swollen with love; shrivel into a tiny rotten husk, incapable of love. The thought of revenge filled every part of him, it was personal and it was everything he had to hold onto. He was filled with potent rage, his pain transformed into a weapon to use against Aarch, always against Aarch.

He hated Aarch so fiercely; he hated Aarch with the same passion with which he had loved him. He'd never hated anything or anyone more than he did Aarch. His dreams were filled with violence, beautiful violence that he desperately wanted to make reality. He'd make Aarch pay; he'd squeeze every drop of revenge from his body until he dropped dead and Artegor would watch and laugh.

He did eventually take the advice that he had been given by Dame Simbai, and got himself a pair of sunglasses. He actually quite liked them and he started wearing them everywhere irregardless of whether or not there was harsh light. They were a barrier between him and the rest of the world, a shield. It made him seem even more remote, and coupled with his medusa hair, it meant that even the Shadows were a little intimidated.

Not Deska though, she'd approached Artegor saying, "I think that perhaps Aarch was a little too sensitive; I think you're more my type, we're a lot alike."

Artegor had of course rejected her in no uncertain terms, but she didn't seem to be too bothered about it either way. He supposed she might just have a thing for humans, or perhaps it she was just a flirt in general. It didn't really matter though.

The respect he got from the other Shadows was gratifying. Before he had been one of two little kids from Akillian, now he found that he was one of them, more than just one of them, he was their leader. He'd never had that much power when Aarch was around. Tillis had made him his protégé, his star player; the rest of the team was superfluous.

Still, he wasn't satisfied. Becoming great wasn't enough of a revenge, it needed to be personal, he needed to hurt Aarch they way he'd hurt him. It was like winter in Artegor's heart, barren, cold and long. All he needed was that one decisive victory and he knew he would be satisfied. It was the only thing he had, his love and the Smog had eaten away at him, like flesh-eating bugs that took every good part of him until all that was thoroughly rotten was all that remained, he was nearly completely hollow.

He didn't speak to Aarch again and Aarch made no attempt to talk to him. A so called 'clean break.' When Artegor played matches on Wambas he sometimes thought he spied Aarch in the stands but when he looked closely he would realise it wasn't him and he would turn away and concentrate all his energy on the match, just in case Aarch was watching. He imagined that Aarch would be staring on in envy at every glorious goal Artegor scored, every foul he got away with. They Shadows won far more games than they lost so that even before the next cup had even begun it was generally agreed that they would most likely be playing in the finals.

Four years on and the Shadows were competing again in the Galactik Football Cup. In the time between then Artegor had got older but not much had happened. His desire for revenge was a strong as ever and this desire was still unfulfilled. He was being fuelled on fury and Smog alone, he barely ate, he slept even less. He had always been focused but now he was singular minded to the point where there was no room for anything else, his body was simply the vehicle for his vengeance.

They did well in the cup, Artegor scored often, monopolised the ball- much to Tillis' pleasure (he'd always encouraged selfish play in Artegor.) He fouled even more often, taking pleasure from seeing his lying on the ground, thinking that soon it would be Aarch there in that position. To see Aarch vulnerable and in pain was his only wish, a wish he would wait decades if necessary to see fulfilled.

Sometimes memories of Aarch did come back to him, against his will, Aarch would float through his dreams like a phantom, giving him ghostly kisses that evaporated as soon as morning came. He'd use the Smog extra hard on the days after those dreams to try and take him away from that mindset, he wouldn't allow himself to be sad, sadness was useless to his cause, he needed to be angry if he wanted to see it through.

The Shadows did indeed play in the cup, a match against the Lightnings again in what rematch from the last cup. They won in a decisive victory with the Lightnings scoring only two goals to the Shadow's four. There were bitter comments that the Shadows only won because the Lightnings' best player was injured just before the match in suspicious circumstances, but Artegor didn't listen. He revelled in the victory, knowing that Aarch must have watched it, must have known what he had given up.

It still wasn't enough though. Revenge was as addictive as the Smog and Artegor hadn't even received the pay off for it yet, he needed to see Aarch for himself, needed to witness the moment where he saw Aarch, broken and utterly defeated, begging like Artegor had begged him. Then Artegor would have the satisfaction of turning him away, of rejecting him like Aarch had rejected him. These thoughts were barely conscious anymore, it was automatic, it was just as essential to Artegor's life as breathing was.

There was very little practically that he could do about it. Aarch had long since left Wambas and not a soul knew where he was. Everyone had mostly forgotten Aarch, but Artegor couldn't forget. The only place Artegor could guarantee Aarch would not be was Akillian; Aarch would no doubt be too scared to face the planet of eternal cold that he had abandoned so easily. Artegor knew that if Aarch returned he would not be greeted warmly, even by his own family. Artegor smirked at the thought, Aarch truly had no home, Artegor had the Shadows but Aarch belonged no-where.

He imagined Aarch dead many a time, but it was always future death, it was always in his power. He never imagined that Aarch might already be dead, slain by cold hand of nature rather than his own devices. As some believed in Gods, such was Artegor's conviction in his vision of retribution.

Another four years went by with not a single sighting of Aarch unless you counted the various pictures that Artegor had strewn around his room as a constant reminder of the person he loathed. He had got older still; he was starting to feel ancient mentally, the Smog taking its toll on him. They played in the cup but this time for whatever reason, they didn't win. In fact they didn't even make it to the finals. The cup was played between the Rykers and the Lightnings and the Rykers won. Artegor had bitterly watched the match from his room cursing the ill luck that had prevented the Shadows from qualifying- Deska had suddenly discovered that she was pregnant (she had got married to a Shadows man, older and a non footballer), leaving them without an experienced midfielder. Their Goalkeeper was also new and was even worse than the last one.

"It's too bad there aren't any more talented humans to be had," Tillis had remarked, initially finding it amusing, although less so after they lost the match. Soon after he 'requested' that Artegor leave the team on grounds of his age. Artegor wasn't sure whether this was the reason or whether it was Tillis' revenge for him having lost the semi-final. Needless to say he was furious, the idea of having to give up football had never really occurred to him although he had known that most footballers had a very finite career.

The blow was softened a little by Tillis taking him on as assistant Coach, after all he was a 'legend' in Tillis' words. Artegor wondered whether Tillis really thought he was fooling Artegor with his oh so carefully chosen words, Artegor could see right through it, when he did what Tillis wanted it was because it was to his own benefit not because he had been manipulated into doing it. So he was assistant Coach for a while, all the time resenting being second fiddle to a Coach past his prime.

The striker they got to replace him wasn't anywhere near as good as he had been, he was a native to the Shadows and still just a boy, as naïve as anyone raised on the Shadows Archipelago could be. He had no vendetta, no real motivation, Artegor didn't think he would last long despite all of Tillis' attempts to coax him into being great. Artegor knew there must be someone better out there but he said nothing, when he became coach he would find someone better, he was just waiting Tillis to die (he knew that Tillis would never quit of his own volition.)

In the end he left the post of assistant coach when he was offered the post of Coach of the 'Red Tigers'- a new team from Akillian. The offer was surprising to him, that anyone from Akillian would speak to him was shocking by itself. When he actually met the Red Tigers he understood. They were utter snobs in a dispassionate way that Artegor found vaguely entertaining; they had such delusions that they could become great. He would coach them to the best of his abilities but he couldn't work miracles, they didn't have what it took, especially not without real flux. Still he wanted them to win if only because it was a waste of his time if they didn't.

But he wouldn't be heartbroken if they didn't, he'd still kept his Smog, there was no way of ripping that from him even after he had left the Shadow's planet, it was an essential part of him and he could rely on it to get him through anything.

It had been weird going back to Akillian. He had known that it was in an eternal ice-age but it was another thing entirely to experience it first hand, it was really nothing like it had been when he had lived there as a teenager. Still, the streets were still as filled with memories as they ever had been. He could feel Aarch's presence everywhere he went, no-one talked about it, he had been mostly forgotten about but Artegor knew he was lurking at the edge of everyone's subconscious, ready at anytime to take it all back. His own presence on Akillian was a challenge, he felt like screaming to the sky, to call Aarch out. He'd waited so long and the unfulfilled need of vengeance was weighing heavily on him. He wasn't even that old and yet he felt as if time was running out.

A new cup was played and the Lightnings won easily, Artegor hadn't even bothered to enter the Red Tigers, he knew they weren't ready; he needed more time with them to get them anywhere close to good enough. The problem was that none of them had the real drive, they saw football as a cheap method of rebellion against their parents, they went to practices but they'd have lives as well, they'd go out and socialise, pursuing many whims. That wasn't how a champion team was created. There was no room for balance if you wanted to be great.

So he continued with the Red Tigers just to keep his skills honed whilst he waited for his natural position as coach of the Shadows. The longer he stayed on Akillian, the more Artegor realised that he belonged with the Shadows, Akillian wasn't the place for him.

He'd been fairly non-committal when it came to the Red Tiger but then something had happened that had changed everything.

Aarch returned to Akillian, weeks before the next cup, to set up a team. Artegor remembered seeing his face on the news, he'd stood up when he'd heard Aarch's name mentioned, beneath the sunglasses, Artegor's eyes had widened in pure disbelief.

His first thought was that age had not been kind to Aarch, his hair was prematurely white and he had gained a lot of weight.

That thought had been easily pushed aside by the overwhelming feelings of glee and anger. Anger because Aarch actually had the gumption to come back and set up a team on the planet that hated his guts and also just from the general fragments of hatred that Artegor still kept for Aarch. Still, a gleeful part of him laughed because he finally had chance for revenge, his life's work completed.

His first instinct wasn't to try and defeat him using the Red Tigers, that was too bloodless, too remote. Instead he sent thugs after him, as a welcome home gift, they were to injure him then take Aarch to him. He could do the rest of the violence himself, he wanted to see the look in Aarch's eyes as he would look up into Artegor's impassive face, his own feelings masked by the sunglasses he always wore. But of course, the goons had to mess it up.

So then he lashed out, however he could. He had fought too long to allow Aarch to slip away again. He'd bribed a Wambas player to take out Tia (the guilt on his face at what he had done felt like a little victory against the planet that had sheltered Aarch after his 'Smog poisoning'.) But that hadn't worked either. He had no choice to consent to the match which pitted his Red Tigers against Aarch's Snow Kids. This time his feeling towards the outcome of the matches was entirely personal, the Red Tigers were his instrument and they would fulfil their role if they wanted to keep their little rebellion going.

Naturally, he'd been furious when he'd lost. He could feel the Smog rising in him, begging for some sort of release. He'd always imagined that once he saw Aarch again that it'd be easy to get what he wanted, he'd never imagine obstacles. Still, if he had to struggle for it, it only made the eventual victory sweeter. Losing was not an option Artegor considered.

He'd managed to snatch a prize from his defeat though. Tillis had died on the same night as the match of a heart attack. It seemed almost too convenient but he didn't know who too blame for the death. He didn't feel sad, he'd never had any attachment to Tillis whatsoever, he was just a coach to him. So, he'd got his team back and he stole Sinedd from Aarch to boot. Sinedd reminded Artegor too much of himself, his anger and defiance. He'd known what his answer would be even before he'd asked Sinedd to join the Shadows. He'd known that Sinedd would be an excellent vessel for the Smog.

Aarch had confronted him during the semi-final, Cyclops vs. Shadows, over his pathetic striker, D'jok, who had gone walkabouts. It just proved that despite Aarch's protestations that he was above their 'school yard rivalry' that in fact he was just as committed to it as he was. He had smirked when Aarch had launched in and grabbed him roughly by the collar (once upon a time this would have led to a kiss) because there was the violent Aarch he had known, there was the requited hatred he sought. The fact that Aarch reported the Cylops' cheating just confirmed the fact that Aarch was desperate for a show down between the two of them; it had nothing to do with a sense of fair play at all.

The Snow Kids were a new team, the flux of Akillian was mediocre in Artegor's eyes, by this reasoning he had thought that the power that was the Shadows would crush them easily. But as usual Aarch surprised him. Somehow this rookie team took the league by storm. In the final despite the Shadows having every advantage, despite Sinedd being far superior to any of Aarch's pathetic team, they lost. Artegor had been enraged for months, it seemed that the universe was plotting against him, Aarch was too lucky; he was escaping the punishment he deserved time after time.

Even more infuriating were his constant attempts to reconcile to be good friends again, the word friends was always said with such a pitying tone, Aarch thought he was so high and mighty when all his actions belied his words, Artegor longed to drag him down into the dirt where he belonged. He didn't want Aarch's charity; he didn't want to give Aarch the absolution.

So, he'd trained his team for another four years, pushed Sinedd as hard as Tillis had pushed him. Sinedd was showing signs of the elusive 'Smog Poisoning' but unlike Aarch, Sinedd was strong enough to push through it, for Sinedd there was no thought of giving it up. Artegor still questioned whether or not Smog poisoning actually existed, it had never affected him, not physically. He wasn't consciously aware of what if had done to his mind; he couldn't remember how he had been before, his life before the Smog, before Aarch, felt unreal like some half-forgotten dream.

He saw Aarch often on the television, always cast as the hero on a quest of redemption, they all forgave him. The fools. This was why he hated Akillian, they were so forgiving, such idiots to be taken in again by his 'sincere' words. The Shadows hadn't forgotten him, they hadn't forgiven him and they never would.

Just before the final 16 started on the second cup that the Snow Kids would be playing in, Aarch had asked Artegor for a friendly, so he could test out his new recruits. Artegor had accepted; hoping to crush their spirits before the competition even began. As it happened it ended in a draw, but it was enough to convince Artegor that his fortunes were reversing. The next time would be a win and he would eliminate Aarch's pathetic team from the cup.

Artegor had no way of knowing that a disaster would hit the planet his called his own, wiping out the Smog from the Shadows just like the Flux had been wiped from Akillian. It was devastating to him, it was like losing a limb, the Smog had been an integral part of him, it had been his only fuel, without it he would surely die.

Of course Aarch came to gloat, lauding his superiority and his knowledge of Smog poisoning over him. He refused to let him in but he persisted. Artegor didn't want Aarch to be his saving grace, his angel, he just wanted him to leave him alone and stop tormenting him once and for all, he knew he'd got to the point where it would be impossible for him to win, Aarch was too strong, even if he killed him he'd still be there, irreversibly fixed in Artegor's brain. All his once lovely thoughts of vengeance snuffed out as he collapsed in Aarch's arms against his will, passing out in the process but not before wondering when it would end for the two of them.

**Okay, that's it for this chapter. The bulk of this fic is now finished, there'll be another chapter but it'll be a lot shorter (as my last chapters are prone to being). I hope the time progression in this fic was easy to follow and not to confusion. But yeah, please review, reviews are so awesome!**


	5. Chapter 5: Spring Again

Winter Lasts Forever, Chapter 5: Spring Again

**Disclaimer: I do not own Galactik Football and I make no money from this fanfiction.**

Artegor opened his eyes, slowly, blinded initially by the light of the room. He'd grown so accustomed to wearing his dark glasses everywhere that the sensation of light was unfamiliar and vaguely unpleasant. It only added to his disorientation, for a moment he thought he might be dead and in the afterlife, before remembering that he didn't believe in life after death anyway.

His last memory started to come back to him and he remembered losing the Smog and Aarch coming to help him, help which he had refused. The name of Aarch no longer sent a pulse of anger through him; all his feelings of hatred and resentment were gone, vanished like the Smog without leaving a trace. He wondered whether that had even been real, he couldn't work it out now, he'd gotten so tangled up, he could barely remember why he had hated Aarch.

He felt so weak laying there, wherever it was, but he couldn't muster the strength to get up. Slowly he flexed his fingers, waking them up, in preparation for moving the rest of his body. He felt clear-headed despite his lack of strength, more clear-headed than he had for years.

He felt so empty without the Smog, without his vendetta to see him through.

'_What do I live for?' he thought, despair filling his body like an off version of the Smog._

He felt utterly hollow; he had lived for almost twenty years on the thought of defeating Aarch, with that thought alone. He felt adrift, he didn't even have the Shadows left, without the Smog they were effectively taken out of the game permanently.

He mustered the strength and turned his head to the side, eyes having somewhat adjusted to the light. He was shocked to see Aarch sitting close to the bedside, although he probably shouldn't have been shocked by this point, Aarch always seemed to turn up wherever he wasn't expected.

His face was furrowed and filled with concern, it took Artegor a moment to realise that Aarch was worried for him. He was so used to thinking of Aarch as the enemy, the villain of the piece that had so carelessly thrown him aside, that he could barely believe that Aarch cared at all about him. It made him feel guilty but also grateful; Aarch hadn't left him to die and he'd cared enough to stay by his bedside, watching over him.

He had to wonder whether Aarch had ever been who he thought he was or whether it had always been in his head.

He was glad to have Aarch, as a friend, as anything. It helped to relieve the knowing emptiness inside him and made him feel warm; he'd been alone for so many years, just to have Aarch be there was enough to make him feel happy. Like they'd come full circle and he was the one who needed forgiveness.

He didn't know where he would go or what he could do next, the possibilities seemed open again for the first time. He didn't know whether he could just stay friends with Aarch or whether it would be just too difficult. But seeing Aarch's smile in response to Artegor's awakening made Artegor feel hope blossom within him; it was spring again within his heart.

**So yeah, that's this fic finished! Sorry that the ending is a little cheesy, but I couldn't help having a happy ending for Artegor. Please review to tell me what you thought about the story overall! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed; I wouldn't have been able to finish it without your encouragement!**


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